2019's 25 Days of Fic
by corneroffandom
Summary: Christmas fics. 1:Ivelisse/Havoc/Angelico; 2:Taven/Bennett; 3:Kaz/Daniels; 4:Mickie/Alexa; 5:Slarrett; 6:Dunne/Ricochet; 7:Rusev Day; 8:Mizorrison; 9:Ambrollins; 10:Dream/Aleister; 11:Dalton/Boys; 12:Okada/Nakamura; 13:ZigZack; 14:McStyles; 15:TJN; 16:Kendrick/Gallagher; 17:ECSpud; 18:DJR; 19:Lana/Tamina; 20:Gulak/Ariya; 21:Carmellsworth; 22:Cassamore; 23:Alpha; 24:DIY; 25:Delcardo
1. Chapter 1

The place is quiet. Virtually abandoned. Any car or truck she sees drives straight past with barely a glance at her by the driver within. There are no familiar faces, just cold wind and flurries now and again sticking to her jacket, to her hair. Ivelisse huffs and buries her hands in her pockets, glowering out at the road. "Those assholes forgot," she mumbles to herself, but she still doesn't leave. Sticks it out for awhile longer, scuffing her leather boots against the pavement in disgust. "Damn them both."

Granted, Angelico has been busy between Mexico and now AEW, and Son of Havoc has been who knows where, really, but still. _Still._ She seethes. And waits. "I swear," she mumbles. "If I ever see them again, I'm gonna kick both of their asses for this." But despite her anger, and her doubt, she stays a little longer, huffing as the snow thickens and the wind whips at her, tearing more of her hair from under her helmet and adding to her misery.

Finally she shakes her head and climbs back onto her trusty motorcycle, revving it fiercely while she grits her teeth and slouches over it for a moment, fighting the disappointment welling up within her. "You're the only thing I can depend on, huh?"

She hears it faintly over her own but chooses to ignore it while gritting her teeth against the pain of being the only one to care about this tradition still, the soft purr of an engine far away, coming closer. She sighs and adjusts her helmet once more before stepping down roughly, turning the motorcycle in a tight circle to leave the abandoned parking lot- when a bright light shines over her and she has to brake quickly to avoid crashing into the motorcycle that had just sped in behind her. "Hey!" she screams, immediately shutting the engine off so she could be heard clearly. "What the fu-?!"

Everything stops as the driver gets off and pulls his helmet off, obnoxiously colored hair streaming down and she gapes at him, too thrown to continue screaming at him. "Hey, Ivie," Angelico greets her with that usual cocky, obnoxious grin. "Long time no see."

She blinks, slowly forcing her mouth shut, then tears her helmet off in a fit of anger before getting off of her bike and storming over to him, hitting him hard in the chest. "Asshole!"

He grunts and rubs at his body suit where she'd struck him and laughs shortly. "I missed you too," he says dryly as she continues to glare at him.

She huffs and throws her hands up, turning back to her motorcycle to hide how her hands are trembling within her gloves. "Why the hell did you take so long?" she grumbles. "I've been waiting for over an hour."

"Hey, it takes time to find people who may not want to be found." He slouches, hands in his own pockets, and she stares at him as a second, louder engine cuts through the early evening wind and he lifts an arm as another light washes over them, temporarily dazing her.

"Wha..." She stares as a familiar form steps off of his motorcycle, hair wild and going every which way under his helmet and when he takes it off, she _almost_ laughs, a sudden flood of emotions making it difficult to breathe, much less speak. But she manages after a few moments. "You," she chokes out. "You still wear that damn mask?" She stomps over to Son of Havoc and tugs at the ridiculous, cheap attempt at covering his face and tangles her fingers in its frayed edges before pausing, staring up at him.

She shivers and he smirks down at her. "Hey, Ivie. Merry Christmas."

"Assholes, disappear from my life for _a year_ and then just ride up in here all _'Hey Ivie'_ and expect things to be ok." But they are, loathe as she is to admit it, things falling into place with a sudden, breathless sort of perfection, and she almost hates herself for so easily forgiving them. Havoc continues smiling down at her, eyes softening, and she hates when he looks like that, so she pulls him closer and bites down on his lip, kissing him hard as his hands grip her hips and hold her tight against him, old habits and preferences still remembered by both of them.

"Hey," Angelico snaps after a few moments, never liking being left out of the fun for too long, so she pulls away from Havoc and grips him by his hair, drawing him down to her level and claiming his mouth, Angelico immediately licking into her and making everything around her go fuzzy. She's still leaning into him, mouthing at his jaw and throat, when Havoc approaches and sandwiches her between them, Ivie relaxing into the warmth as she listens to Havoc and Angelico's ragged breathing, wondering what they did when Angelico found him, but realizing she doesn't care.

Pulling herself free from between them and turning in time to see them standing there, foreheads pressed together as they come down from all of this, she smirks and grabs their helmets from where they'd propped them on their motorcycles. "C'mon, boys." Forcing them back on their heads, ignoring their sputters and protests, she pulls hers on as well and turns back to her bike, adrenaline already pulsing through her veins as the anticipation rises. "Let's ride."


	2. Chapter 2

Matt exhales. Stares out at the wind and the sleet slamming against the glass separating him from the outside world and shifts in his seat. Things haven't been the easiest this year, between everything with Maria, how she had suddenly made it her mission to do all she could to test Mike, to hurt him between her hormones all over the place, and her cruel barbs regarding the pregnancy, Matt's various injuries catching up with him, his title reign ending so abruptly, TK's concussion and Vinnie. Vinnie betraying him. All of the good this year seems hard to hold onto after all of it, and he exhales slowly. "But we're still here," he tells his reflection grimly. "That's something to remember."

He's lost in thought for the rest of the flight, only stirring when the seatbelt light starts to flash, clicking his into place and shifting his gaze to the flight attendants wandering from row to row, checking on their passengers. One of them leans in towards him and smiles. "Everything alright, sir?"

He nods at her. "Yeah, everything's great, thanks."

She smiles. "We'll be landing soon."

"Perfect." She walks off and he sighs, eager to get off of the plane, get in a taxi and finally, _finally_ get to his destination. Mike's been booking as many motivational speeches as he can, and Matt assumes it's good for him, keeps his mind off of how he can't wrestle while this contract drama draws on and on, but _seriously. _The day before Christmas? When there were no flights back in time? So he had left Maria with her siblings and parents, booked a flight as well, taking the very last seat on the plane available, and finally, through snowstorms and technical issues delaying everything, he's here.

Departing the plane is a fresh level of hell, and the taxi takes forever on traffic congested roads, so by the time they finally arrive at the center where Mike had said he'd be, Matt is close to tearing out what remains of his hair and gnashing his teeth into pieces.

However, when he walks into the building, and he hears Mike's voice, something deep inside of him unclenches and he breathes a little easier, giving himself a few minutes just to listen to his significant other talk about addiction and other challenges he's faced. He waits until a lull in Mike's speech, when he's clearly waiting for more questions, before showing himself. "Excuse me, I'm wondering what one should do when their significant other cuts town just before a major holiday and leaves all of their presents behind? Do you have any advice for me?"

Mike's jaw drops as he gazes at Matt, whispers and giggles from those around them all but ignored as they stare at each other. "I," he says, then stops, flummoxed. "I guess you could yell at them and lecture them, refuse to give them a present." His eyes ease down to the festive looking box in Matt's hand and he exhales shakily. "Or you could surprise them by flying out to be with them and bring the present to them?"

"Yeah, pretty much what I thought," Matt says with a smirk, enjoying the shock on Mike's face. "Carry on, didn't mean to interrupt." He makes a waving motion before taking a seat towards the middle, enjoying Mike's eyes, and the gaze of the crowd, on him as he settles in and places the box in his lap, waiting for Mike to continue speaking.

Finally things calm down and Mike carries on until his time runs out and he dismisses them all with a quick thank you, twisting his hands together until the crowd thins out enough for him to get off of the stage and head in Matt's direction. A few lingering people stop him along the way but most let him through, curious to see what the two Kingdom members will do. Matt stands as soon as Mike makes it to his aisle and they stare at each other. "Come with me," Mike says, holding a hand out to him.

Matt nods, meeting him halfway and allowing himself to be led through the few people staring at them still, up the side of the stage and back to to relative privacy of where Mike must have prepared for this show before Matt disrupted everything. He suddenly feels a little guilty. "Hey, Mike," he says, tugging on his fingers. When Mike turns to him, he forces a smile. "I, uh, I'm sorry. It seemed like a better idea in my head, I didn't mean to take your spotlight or-"

His words suddenly fade into illegible mumbles as Mike grips his arms and draws him in, kissing him warm and slow and tender. He _melts_ and Mike sighs softly, pulling away to press his forehead to Matt's. "I really missed you, how did you know what I really wanted for Christmas this year?"

Matt blinks slowly, still lost in the tingling sensations coming from the aftershocks of that kiss. "I... I didn't," he says. "I mean, you scheduled it so you'd be gone on Christmas. Maria and I both thought you wanted to be by yourself, but it just didn't feel right to me so, you know me, I can't leave anyone alone, so here I am."

Mike laughs faintly and shakes his head. "No, I really, really wanted you here, but I thought... considering, you might want to spend the holidays at home." His gaze drops and Matt swallows hard, guilt cutting through him for a whole other reason. "I mean, Maria likes you a whole hell of a lot more than she likes me right now."

Matt cradles Mike's face in his hands and searches his eyes. "Hey," he says softly, and Mike looks at him, pain and uncertainty overwhelming his gaze. "It's not like that, ok? She's going through a lot right now. And I know we all are, but we have to keep it in mind, right? She'll have this baby soon and things'll go back to normal. I promise you."

"I hope so," he sighs. "I'm really glad you're here though." He rests his hands over Matt's and squeezes gently. "Now what's this about a present for me?"

Matt chuckles and hands the box over, coughing slightly. "It's not much, but there's more at home. Just didn't feel right for you not to have _something_ to open."

Mike smiles at him and slowly unwraps the gift, staring down at the jewelry box within. He pries it open too and gapes at the small bracelet inside, looking up at Matt in shock. "Wha..."

Matt gently eases it out of the box and holds it so Mike can see the stones glistening. "These are our birthstones," he explains, pointing out his, Mike's and Maria's. "And this is Moon's." Then his rests his finger against a blank spot. "When the baby comes, we'll have his put here."

Mike stares down at it, fingers trembling, and Matt worries for a minute until he looks up and smiles at Matt. "It's beautiful," he exhales. "Thank you." He puts it on, struggling with the clasp for a moment, before finally getting it in place.

"I just felt like you could use a reminder that we're all a family, no matter what's going on with Maria right now, ok?" Matt reaches out and lightly wipes at Mike's eyes. "I didn't mean to make you cry though."

"Happy tears, I promise," Mike sniffs with a sheepish laugh. "It's just been a really, really long year."

"Yeah, it has been," Matt sighs, wrapping an arm around Mike and drawing him close, resting his jaw on top of his head while he continues to examine the bracelet. "But we're through the worst of it. And we're together, that's the important part."

Mike's smile grows as he leans in and kisses Matt. "Couldn't have said it better myself," he breathes out. "I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to open, I'll see what I can do about that before we fly back home."

Matt chuckles. "Don't worry about it," he mumbles. "This is a good enough gift right here." He presses a slow kiss between Mike's eyes. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Mike murmurs back, curling his arms around Matt's neck and kissing him again, bracelet glinting in the faint light overhead.


	3. Chapter 3

Frankie Kazarian listens to the going ons at the AEW company party with a distracted ear, the Jacksons being their usual boisterous selves, drowning out the Christmas music handily as they tell stories and keep everyone laughing and whispering among themselves. He chuckles a little and scans the room, not surprised to find Scorpio Sky among the group. Raises his glass to him and grins a little when his tag partner responds in kind. He continues searching the room for his other SCU brother and, not finding Christopher Daniels anywhere within these four walls, exhales and pulls away from the wall he's leaning against, pausing for a few moments at the food and drinks table before heading outside.

Sure enough, there's his friend, the light jacket that's covering his shoulders just enough to protect him from the cool Florida wind. "Hey, man, what're you doing? The party's inside," he teases lightly and Daniels looks up.

"Hey, Frankie."

"Hey." He stands next to him, shoulder to shoulder, and Daniels' lips twitch up into a near smile. "You alright?"

"Yeah," he says quietly. "Just thinking. Never really guessed we'd be _here_ right now, you know?"

Frankie does. SCU had been spinning their wheels in ROH about this time last year, just waiting- hoping- for time to pass, for them to be free to move on. And man, had they, in a big way. Inaugural AEW tag team champions and all. He smiles over at him. "I kind of did. It was the goal, after all."

Chris nods. "Yeah, I know it was. It just all seemed to go so smoothly, when I'm used to everything being more of a struggle." As much as his injury had derailed their tag title hopes- briefly- everything else had worked out well. AEW wanting them, signing them, ROH firmly in their rear view mirror.

"I know," Frankie murmurs, always being there with him through the worst of it- TNA, ROH, everything in between. "But hey, we're here, and things are really good. Right?"

Chris smiles. "Yeah, they are. How could they not be? It's the holidays, SCU is still going strong, and let me tell you, _this_ holiday party puts _last_ year's to shame."

Frankie laughs. "Damn straight, brother. Damn straight." He then remembers and pushes an appletini towards Daniels, watching his eyes light up. "Merry Christmas, Chris."

"Merry Christmas, Frankie," he says, the two of them clicking their glasses together and taking a long sip. After a few more minutes of staring out over the Florida skyline, Daniels turns. "Let's go back inside."

"Yeah?" Frankie asks, glancing over at him.

"Yep. Don't wanna worry Sky, after all." Chris smirks as Frankie finishes his beer and joins him, the two men walking side by side back into the bright, cheerful room to join in with their own stories to rival Matt and Nick's.


	4. Chapter 4

Alexa wakes up cold and alone, searching the cool sheets next to her and coming up empty. She groans and blinks around the quiet, empty bedroom, shaking her head slowly. Runs her fingers through her hair a little, feeling the blonde strands messy and tangled under her fingers, and groans as she drags herself out of bed. "Mph," she grumbles as her feet hit the chilly floor, stubbornly continuing to pad sleepily towards the door despite everything urging her to go back to bed. As soon as she opens it, a faint light down the hall gains her attention and she blinks, walking towards it with a hand on the opposite wall to try to keep from tripping over herself.

Mickie is sitting in a large chair near the window, staring down at the laptop on her legs, hesitantly searching out words on the keyboard. The Christmas tree flashing gently across from her is the only other light source in the entire room, and for a moment, Alexa is dazed by how incredible she looks with the multicolored lights reflecting off of her skin. She doesn't notice being stared at until Alexa is standing right in front of her, eyes squinting against the glow of the laptop. "Oh! Hon, you scared me," Mickie says, looking up at her with wide, dark eyes. "Go back to bed, sweetie," she continues, moving to put the laptop aside and taking her hand. "I didn't mean to wake you."

But Alexa shakes her head and settles in next to Mickie, yawning softly against her shoulder. "I woke up because I was alone," she mumbles, nuzzling against her and tucking her legs in to prove she has no intentions of going anywhere. "And cold. What are you doing? Writing more Christmas songs?"

"Yeah," Mickie says, kissing her forehead. "I just woke up and couldn't get back to sleep, my mind was racin' a mile a minute, so I thought this might help a little bit. But both of us don't need to be sleep deprived and cranky today. C'mon." She tries to stand and tug Alexa up with her but Alexa seems content right where she's at, wrapping an arm around Mickie's waist and holding her in place.

"No," she whines. "I wanna stay with you. Please?"

Mickie exhales and lightly loosens Alexa's grip, murmuring quiet reassurances before moving over to where there's a blanket spread over the couch, pulling it over to her and wrapping them both snug up in its folds. She adjusts things where she was working, then settles back in next to Alexa, pulling her close and lightly tapping at her jaw until she looks up, eyes still barely opened. "Fine, Miss Bliss," she says softly. "You get to stay." Alexa smiles and Mickie exhales, still thrown by how beautiful she is even after all of this time. "Brat," she teases fondly and Alexa makes a deep hmphing sound before Mickie kisses her. "Try to get some sleep."

Alexa doesn't need to be told twice, immediately resting her head back against Mickie's shoulder and sinking into sleep with a soft, breathy sigh. Mickie chuckles and rubs her back soothingly before pulling the laptop back over and beginning to type again, pausing now and again to look at Alexa, the tree, or at the snow glistening beyond the window.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry this is late, should be back on schedule tomorrow.

Wade walks into the house and blinks, listening suspiciously. Quiet greets him, no off-key singing, growling or hissing, and he steps hesitantly in, closing the door behind him. Still nothing, peace still echoing back at him. He frowns, glancing around the corner into the living room. The Christmas tree flickers cheerfully and he grimaces, stepping fully into the room. "Bullocks," he sighs. "Where is everyone?"

He walks through the house and, finding it as empty as the rest of it, he heads outside and shifts his jacket to protect him a little better from the wind as he steps out into the backyard. He's not terribly surprised to find fire flickering deep in the yard, carefully set away from the garage and trees dotting the yard. He heads in that direction, not surprised to find Heath sitting in front of the fire, the dogs sprawled out at his feet, panting cheerfully as they trace Wade's steps with their eyes. "Hey, boys, did you drag your ridiculous owner out here?" he wonders, settling down on the tree stump across from Heath and petting them.

Boodah gets up and barks, laying his head on Wade's lap and gazing up at him, every sign of innocence in those dark eyes. Not very much unlike Heath's. "They weren't joking when they said after awhile that owners begin to resemble their dogs," he sighs, looking over at Heath. "What's going on, Ginger? You only do the whole bonfire in the backyard thing when things are really weighing on you."

"Nothing new," Heath shrugs. "Just got a little tired being cooped up in there and thought some fresh air would be nice. Sorry I wasn't inside when you got home, though. Guess I lost track of time."

Wade shrugs it off and shifts to sit a little closer to where Heath's at. "I suppose you've heard I'm going to be doing commentary for NWA."

"Yeah." Heath leans in closer to the flames, keeping Wade from getting a good look at his expression. "I'm happy for ya."

"I can tell," Wade says, grimly sarcastic. "Heath, come on. Look at me." Once their eyes lock, Wade exhales. "You know I wasn't going to return to WWE any time soon."

"I know." He doesn't say anything for a long moment, then finally mumbles, "I know you weren't. It's just still... weird, without you. Without Rhyno. I'm all alone over there again. I ain't even on the same brand as Zack and Hawkins anymore, so I can't even do the podcast as much. That was fun."

Wade holds his hand out quietly and Heath glances at it, at him, for a few moments, before meeting him halfway and squeezing his fingers. "I'm sorry things aren't changing the way you'd like. You deserve better."

"Not everyone agrees," he sighs, lifting Wade's hand and pressing it close to his face. "Either way, I'm glad you're home. Missed ya."

"Missed you too," Wade tells him, scooting closer once Boodah pulls away and curls back down at Heath's feet. "How much of the holidays are we going to get together, do you know?"

Heath smiles, ducking his head. "A few days, at least. Helps that Smackdown's on Fridays, even if they don't use me that week. I'll be home with ya for Christmas _and_ New Years, all goes well."

"Sounds good," Wade tells him quietly and Heath nods. "Maybe we'll go somewhere, get out of here for a bit. We've lived here for awhile now," he muses, looking over at their house. "But it still feels like we haven't experienced a lot around here, since I'm always busy with my movie roles, and you're on the road a lot. How does that sound?"

Heath, still clinging to Wade's hand, stands and shuffles over, careful not to disrupt the dogs or get too close to the fire. Curling his arms around Wade's neck, he settles down in his lap and smiles as Wade wraps his arm around him, holding him securely in place. "Sounds pretty perfect," he says, burying his face in Wade's neck with a soft sigh.

"Yeah, I think so too," Wade murmurs, running his fingers through Heath's hair and staring into the flames, making an internal list of every place he'd like to show Heath, everything they have yet to do and experience together. "So does this." He eases his hand under Heath's shirt, stroking his side, and Heath gasps, shivering a little.

"Charmer," he says, tilting his face and kissing Wade, his free hand creeping up to rest on the side of Wade's face and hold him in place.

Wade smirks at him, tracing his lips with his thumb. They sit for awhile longer, lost in thoughts and plans for the future, before the chill chases them back inside after dousing the fire properly, the dogs seeming as eager to escape the wind as they are, even if it means they have to share the floor with the cats.

Heath smiles as Wade drops down by the tree and reaches out for him, kneeling down to settle in the warmth of his arms, staring up at the lights flickering cheerfully. "I love you."

Wade looks down at him, his teeth gleaming in the soft glow coming from the tree as he searches Heath's face. "I love you too," he echoes softly, wrapping his arms more snugly around Heath and smiling when he lets out a contented noise.


	6. Chapter 6

Ricochet tilts his head and watches quietly as the shadowed form moves, trying to keep to the rhythm in his own head despite the injuries nagging at him, slowing him down. He forces himself to remain still, silent, even as Pete struggles and sometimes gasps out in pain. As much as he hates it, he knows if Pete senses him watching, about to intervene, he'd work himself even harder, trying to ignore his body's limitations as if to prove to himself that he can do it, no matter what.

But then Dunne's knee buckles on a forward strike and Ricochet gives up on all pretenses, rushing forward and getting his arms under Pete's armpits, holding him up as best as he can. "Enough, ok? You've done enough," he says softly into Pete's sweat-soaked hair. "Pete, please."

Pete grits his teeth, looking like he's about to argue, or surge upwards and continue training, but tense moments pass and he eventually sinks back into Ricochet's arms with a tired grunt, eyes closed so tight that it almost looks painfully. "Bloody hell," he rasps out, nails biting into Ricochet's wrist as he tries to get his feet back under him properly.

"I know," he says gently. "I know." He helps Pete to stand and watches as Pete angrily tears off his fighting gloves, not quite catching Ricochet's gaze. "It's ok."

But Pete shakes his head, biting his lip in frustration. "It's not." He turns and limps into the locker room to change, hand creeping up to rest on his abused ribcage, and Ricochet sighs, following him after a few moments.

He hates not helping Pete when he's hurting like this, but despite their being together for the better part of the last couple of years, he knows better, unless things are _really_ dire, so he curls his fingers into fists and watches, waiting for the moment when Pete _might_ need him, taking the opportunity to take in his bruised sternum, the swelling of his injured knee. He exhales slowly and then falters when Pete looks up at him, brows furrowed, lips twisted. "Do you need anything from me right now?"

Pete closes his eyes and sighs. "A ride," he mumbles. "I... I came with Burch, but he left a few hours ago."

Ricochet's eyes soften even as frustration grows within him. _Hours, huh? Probably refused to leave, even when Burch said he was going._ "Yeah," he answers after a few moments. "Sure. I can do that."

Pete looks up at him, not used to simple acceptance from Ricochet, without some sort of argument or debate. "... Thank you," he says stiffly and Ricochet nods.

"Whenever you're ready, then," he says, relieved when Pete quickly stuffs his things into a gym bag and hoists it up with a grimace, walking past him out of the door towards the exit.

Their apartment is simple, small, some quiet little thing in a ramshackle building, but Ricochet loves it, and he thinks Pete is more fond of it than he'd ever admit- his first 'home' while living States-side. "Here," he says, turning and sliding the bag from Pete's slack fingers. "Go sit down. I don't want you to move for the rest of the evening."

The glower Pete awards him for _that_ suggestion would cower most men, but Ricochet is used to dealing with him by now so he just stares back, cool and calm, until Pete gives up and follows his commands, sinking down onto the couch with a muffled groan of relief as his body all but melts into the cushions. After emptying Pete's bag and dropping his clothes in the laundry pile and putting everything else where it needs to be, he returns to the living room and drops a box on the couch next to Pete. "Time to put up the tree!" he declares cheerfully and Pete rolls his eyes, moving to stand. "Oh, no you don't," Ricochet chides him, leaning over and pushing him back down onto the sofa. "_I_ will be putting this sucker up, you sit there and help me from here."

"What kind of help is _that_?" Pete grouses, crossing his arms petulantly over his chest as Ricochet smirks down at him.

"You'll see." Once he gets the tree up, and makes sure the branches are as he wants them, he quickly twists a strand of lights around it, and some garland. "Nice," he mumbles, stepping back to look at it. "Any thoughts?"

Pete stares at it, eyes reflecting the multicolored lights across from him. "Nice," he echoes and Ricochet smirks.

"Now the fun part," he says cheerfully, grabbing the box of ornaments from next to Pete and setting them down within arm's reach. "Where do you think?" he wonders, holding up an ornament shaped like a wreath. Pete frowns at him as he continues to wiggle the ornament at him. "Back of the tree? Left? In the middle, towards the bottom? Anywhere you suggestion is where this ornament will sit until we take the tree down. C'mon, Pete."

Pete groans. "This would be easier if you'd just-"

"Of course it would," Ricochet says, chipper. "But someone overworked themselves training today, despite two painful injuries, so they get to follow along with my suggestion or I'll just decorate this tree how I see fit and who knows _how_ that'll turn out."

Pete grunts, scrubbing his hand over his face. "And people say I'm stubborn," he grouses. "You're a more vicious sort, silent but deadly."

Ricochet grins. "You know, I kind of like that." Some of the humor fades from his face and he shakes the ornament at Pete. "Now where does this go?"

"Top right, four branches down," he sighs, waving Ricochet on. It takes some trial and error, but they figure things out, and slowly fall into a rhythm with this, and before too long, the box is empty and the tree is glittering prettily with different ornaments and everything else.

Ricochet disappears into the kitchen, returning after a few minutes with a couple of steaming cups of hot chocolate and makes sure Pete has a solid hold on his before settling in next to him, resting his head on his shoulder. "I really like that," he says quietly, staring at the tree for a few moments while his cocoa cools. "We did a nice job."

"You did all of it," Pete mumbles, upper lip already stained with his drink.

Ricochet laughs and shakes his head, drawing Pete's face over towards him and kissing him, lightly licking the chocolate off of his mouth and making them both shiver. "Nah," he says gently. "I really didn't. You helped more than you realize."

Pete hmphs low in his throat as he takes another sip, quirking his eyebrows at Ricochet. "If you say so."

"I do," Ricochet says with a wide grin as he turns back to his own drink, staring up at the tree with a soft, affectionate gaze. He blinks hard when Pete's fingers ease along his own, not looking to harm or snap for once, just lightly curling around his and holding on, warm and careful. Ricochet smiles and shifts his hand so their fingers can link together properly, warmth curling deep inside of him. "Merry Christmas, Pete."

Pete exhales, sending up a streak of fog from his mug. "Merry Christmas, Trev."


	7. Chapter 7

Rusev's pleasure at getting Lana and Lashley arrested had, ultimately, been shortlived. As soon as he crashes on the couch at Aiden's, he's back to being solemn, staring down at his hands as he folds them in his lap and ducks his head with a tired, grim sigh. "I don't know what to do," he says quietly and Aiden crosses his arms over his chest with an awkward grimace. "I try and I try and I try, but..." He looks up and catches Aiden's eye for a second before his former partner looks away. "I know I should hate them, I should hate her for all she's done, but it... it just hurts."

Aiden exhales and scratches at his arm, still trying his hardest not to look too closely at Rusev because he knows if he does, he'll give in immediately and try to console him, and he really, _really_ doesn't want to fall back into that role. Opens his mouth, then closes it and shakes his head, gritting his teeth against the questions welling up within him, the uncomfortable curiosity and need to know.

"What?" Rusev demands when Aiden remains quiet. "Say what you're thinking, Aiden! I'm in no mood for more games, not from you. Not after everything."

So Aiden turns and looks him dead in the eye for the first time since arriving, stopping Rusev dead mid-rant. "Did it hurt this bad when I did what I did and you cast me aside like yesterday's garbage?"

Now Rusev looks awkward and uncomfortable and Aiden gets some sort of bitter pleasure out of that before the crushing wish he could take back what he just said overwhelms him. "No," Rusev admits lowly and Aiden exhales harshly before turning away, eager to disappear into his bedroom and ignore Rusev until he decides to leave on his own. "No," he says louder, determined to be heard. "It was _worse_ because Lana- Lana has _done_ this to me before. Ziggler, and Enzo, and whoever else." His large hand cuts through the air impatiently as Aiden turns to face him once more. "You were my most loyal friend, by my side for so long. I trusted you more than I have ever trusted anyone else in my life, and you still..." His voice fades away, but Aiden knows what he means, nods with a weak swallow.

"Yeah. I still betrayed you." Their eyes lock and Aiden shrugs. "I was jealous and in pain and just wanted _you_. And I lashed out and hurt you, and I didn't mean to, I just... wanted to show you I was better for you than Lana."

Rusev nods, gaze returning to his hands. "Despite it all," he murmurs, "you still keep bailing me out and giving me a place to stay during all of this." He looks up. "Why is that, Aiden? Carrillo and Garza not keeping your attention as much as you'd hoped?"

Aiden looks _shocked_ at just how thoroughly Rusev's been paying attention to his antics at commentary, on twitter. "I... I mean-"

Rusev lets out a humored little snort and closes his eyes. "I cannot blame you," he says thoughtfully. "When you're lonely and dealing with things, I suppose it helps to have something pretty to look at."

"Right," Aiden breathes out, struggling to catch his meandering thoughts right now. Suddenly emboldened by Rusev not looking right at him, he steps forward until he can feel Rusev's warmth. "As pretty as those cousins are," he says quietly, "that's as far as my intrigue goes. If I wanted a deeper, more _real_ connection, there's only one place I would go for that." He reaches out and gingerly runs his fingers over Rusev's scalp, through his hair, and when Rusev softly exhales, Aiden hums, applying more pressure when he strokes through it again, gently scratching at him.

"Aiden," Rusev says quietly, arching into Aiden's long, slender fingers, and Aiden swallows hard.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry for... for everything. What you did was awful, but we had something special going and I repaid you by making you feel marginalized and tossed aside, and I shouldn't have done that. Our friendship should've meant more to me. I took you for granted." Rusev pauses. "And Lana shouldn't have mocked you for what your password was."

"It- it was creepy," Aiden says through frozen lips. "I mean... it was..."

"Maybe a little," Rusev says, rescuing him from stammering around nonstop and not making any sense. "But it was sincere and no one should've shamed you for it, and we shouldn't have outed it publicly like that. Things could've been handled differently all around."

Aiden shivers, fingers still tangled in Rusev's hair, and he finally whispers, "I miss you."

Rusev blinks up at him, a small smile quirking his lips. "What do you know," he murmurs. "I miss you too, Aiden."

They don't move for awhile, lost in thought about everything, and it takes what feels like forever for Aiden to drag himself back to reality, ease his hand out of Rusev's hair and straighten up. "There, uh, is one thing you can help me with, if you want," he says, trying to sound upbeat, like the last few minutes hadn't happened.

Rusev watches him with a curious gaze as he twists his hands together for a minute, before disappearing into a side room. He listens as Aiden pushes things around, sometimes knocking things over, and he chuckles as faint cursing drifts out towards him. "AHA!" Aiden finally exclaims before scrambling back out into the main room and handing a box to Rusev. "We, uh. These were made last year, I bought... I bought a pair, but it never felt right, putting them on my tree or anything, so. Maybe... now that you're here... now's the time."

Rusev lightly runs his finger over the box before prying it open, easing its contents out and gently untangling the ornaments within from the spool of bubble wrap they were still in. As soon as he sees what they actually are, his breath seizes in his throat and he smiles. "Oh wow. I haven't seen these yet," he says softly, dangling the gingerbread ornaments that were made based on himself and Aiden last year on his fingers.

"I know," Aiden mumbles. "What do you think, wanna help me put them on my tree?"

Rusev smiles at him. "I'd be honored, Aiden."

Side by side, they approach the tree, and Aiden watches as Rusev scrutinizes every inch of it before placing the Aiden ornament in a clear spot. Once he steps aside, Aiden finds a spot not too far away from his to place Rusev's gingerbread fascimile. Both men step back and eye the tree before glancing over at each other. "It took awhile," Aiden says softly, "But I think I can finally say my tree's complete."

Rusev grins at him and tilts his head, examining the lights reflection off of the branches, the ornaments and the garland. "I believe so too," he says, dropping an arm on Aiden's shoulder and squeezing lightly.


	8. Chapter 8

John had suggested the shopping trip as a way to distract the overly stressed Mike after everything that happened on Smackdown this past week. Between his movie filming schedule, and Mike's constantly being on the run between media, Miz and Mrs promotion, and WWE itself, neither of them had gotten very far in getting Christmas gifts for those closest to them as of yet. But the longer they spend away from Maryse and the kids, the more jittery Mike gets, checking his phone, gnawing at his lip until it bleeds, repeatedly scraping his hand through his hiar.

"Hey, hey," John says, grabbing his wrist mid-swipe and holding his hand close to his chest. "Your scalp is going to start bleeding too if you keep doing that, man."

Mike blinks, hard, then looks at John as if he's just now remembering he's not alone, someone's with him. "I know. I just... I can't stop it," he exhales, shoulders slumping. He's a huge ball of tension and misery and John shakes his head, lightly running his fingers over Mike's knuckles.

"Taya's with Maryse and the kids, she'll keep them safe," John tells him. "You know this. Hey, if anyone has experience with the supernatural, it's us." And what a road that had been, Taya had been possessed, had hurt him, had hurt a lot of other people, until John had gotten ahold of her, having to be more physical than he'd ever want to be with her, and had talked, talked, talked- which is _not_ his strong suit, by any means- and she had finally fought through the weakening hold the temple had on her, the evil staining her soul following Lucha Underground's sudden collapse, and fell apart in his arms over how many people's blood were on her hands. So yeah, when it comes to things like The Fiend, they have some idea of how to handle it.

"I know," Mike sighs. "It's just, the kids are still so small, and Maryse is alone with them so much... I mean, yeah, her mom's there, and the staff, but they don't get it, they've never experienced the Wyatts before." He absentmindedly rubs at his chest and John looks down, both men remembering Mike laying unconscious backstage, chained up to a fence, LIAR scrawled across his bare chest.

"Nothing's going to happen to them, man," John insists quietly, pulling Mike closer and briskly rubbing his back. "I swear. We'll do all we can to keep you all safe."

Mike catches his eye and searches his face, before exhaling softly, a little of the tension locked up in his muscles easing. "Man," he sighs. "I don't deserve you guys."

"Oh yeah, you do," John says with a faint chuckle. "Trust me, Taya isn't the type to spend time where she doesn't want to. That's the biggest proof of what you deserve right there." Mike smiles a little and John nudges him. "Now, are you up to some Christmas shopping or do you want to just let it go for right now, go home and hold your wife and kids close, and we can try this some other time?"

Mike looks down at the crumpled up, forgotten list in his hand and flinches. "I think Maryse might do worse to me than Bray Wyatt ever could if I don't buy everything that's written here," he admits dryly and John beams at him. "Yeah, ok, let's do some shopping."

"That's the spirit! Come on," John exclaims, heading for the nearest store that looks promising. He stops short, however, when Mike grips his hand, turning back to face him. "Mike?"

Mike's eyes are soft, affectionate, as he searches John's face. "I just wanted to say thank you. You've stuck by me even when I was being pretty terrible to you, and I... I really owe you a lot."

John laughs, shakes his head. "Nah, man, friendship doesn't work that way, if we went back and forth on what we owe each other after the last twelve years, we'd never reach the end of it."

Mike exhales. "Damn, it really has been that long, hasn't it?"

"Yep," John says cheerfully. "Pretty damn good for a friendship born out of wrestling, I'd say."

Mike laughs. "No kidding, man." He squeezes John's hand before slowly releasing him. "Well, when you put it that way." He swings his arms out wide, barely noticing as he almost strikes a passing woman, who turns to glower at him before walking just a little bit faster to get away from them. John sighs and shakes his head, a small smile teasing along his lips, before Mike continues. "Lead the way, my friend. Santa has quite the list to get through today."

John chuckles, pushes the door open, and listens for the familiar sound of their steps falling in sync as they walk inside to begin making a dent in the massive list Maryse had given Mike before they left.


	9. Chapter 9

Seth feels strangely calm after laying it all out for the crowd. He'd been bottling it up for so long, biting his tongue and trying to keep his head down, focusing on beating Lesnar, retaining his title. The things he'd said on Twitter had only eased his inner turmoil a little, but now, now that he's said things aloud, spoke his truth to the world, he feels more relaxed and at peace with himself than he has in a good year.

He closes his eyes and leans back against the chilly brick wall behind him, focusing on his breathing and how the wind feels against his skin. There are holiday decorations scattered around, a wreath on the wall above him, a tree in the entrance to the hotel, some fake snowmen are glowing from a yard just within sight, and he rolls his eyes, not interested in any of the holiday nonsense going on around him, eager for it all to be over so life can go back to normal, the winter dreariness sounding pretty good to him right now.

Lost in thought, he ignores the footsteps approaching him until whoever it is leans against the wall nearby. "Keep walking, pal, there's plenty of space around here, you don't need to hang out here." His voice is calm, but steady, unwilling to back down. When the person doesn't move, he pushes away from the wall and turns to glower at whoever it is, unable to get a good look due to how the shadows fall against where he's standing. "Hey, did you hear me? I said keep walking."

"Make me."

Time stops as soon as Seth registers the voice, eyes widening as he looks incredulously into the shadows. "Dean?" he asks, stepping closer.

"Name's Mox now," Ambrose says, tilting his head and staring back at him. "And last I checked, Seth, you don't have the _authority_ to tell me where to stand or not stand. Ain't that right?" There's a mocking lilt to how he says authority, even all of these years later, and Seth shakes his head, rolling his eyes.

"Some things haven't changed, I see," Seth says. "You're still like this."

"Like what?" Mox wonders. "Refusing to take your crap, Seth? I heard what you said to the crowd tonight."

Seth lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "Good." He ignores Mox's stare as he walks past him. "Well, I'm not sure why you're here, but I have better things to do than this."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" Mox wonders. "Enjoy having the Authors of Pain following you around like an oversized version of J&J? How's the language barrier going?"

Seth rolls his eyes and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Money talks well enough to make all of us understand each other easily enough."

Mox hums. "I see. You know, Seth, I wasn't really surprised that things circled the drain for you, you can't be alone for too long without everything falling apart." He hesitates. "I just never thought you'd turn your back on me like this."

Seth tenses at this, and almost instinctively turns to look at him, a strange look in his eyes. "_I_ turned on _you_? Seriously, Dean? You made me think you were done with wrestling, that you needed a break from everything before you decided what was next. Then next thing I knew, you were showing up at AEW and I was supposed to just be ok with it all? How would you feel if I did something like that?"

Mox seems to be mulling it over for long, tense moments, before shrugging. "I don't know," he admits. "I'd like to think I'd support you no matter what you chose to do, but things between us are never that easy, are they?" Too much history, too much past pain, too many failed expectations.

Seth exhales and closes his eyes, shaking his head. "No," he mumbles. "They're really not." He gives up on leaving when so much unsaid is still hanging between them and returns to the wall, standing shoulder to shoulder with Mox. Warmth cuts through the chill where their arms touch, and Seth breathes in shakily, exhaling it slowly and watching his breath mist through the air.

"So what now?" Mox wonders, looking over at him.

"I have no clue," Seth sighs. "Try to get my head back on straight, see if I can get another opportunity at Brock again." He grits his teeth. "Son of a bitch, that things are back to how they were _before..._ like everything I've fought for the last year is _meaningless..._" He hits his head against the brick behind them and Mox grimaces at the sound, watching him out of the corner of his eye. "I sacrificed so much to bring that belt back... and... everything went so wrong..."

Mox sighs and Seth looks up at him. "In what way?" he mumbles, digging his hands into his pockets as he slouches against the wall, gaze trailing over the stars overhead.

"Everyone hates me," Seth says simply. "The roster, the fans." His voice fails him and he exhales. "You."

Mox does look at him then, barking out a sharp, sarcastic sort of laugh. "Last I checked, brother, you're the one who hates me. I'm trying to take food off of your plate? Right?"

Seth grits his teeth and digs his knuckles into his forehead. "You know how I get when I'm angry," he mumbles. "I say things without thinking. But... we are competition now, you have to admit that. In order to win, someone has to suffer."

Mox shrugs. "I guess I should just be glad you didn't have a chair this time."

Seth's gaze sharpens as they stare at each other. "Likewise," he says, pushing away from the wall like he's about to walk off, give up on even trying to discuss this with Mox, but his forward momentum stalls when fingers curl around his wrist, gripping tightly. "Let me go."

"No," Mox says. "Roman and I still talk, pretty regularly, and he's worried about you."

"That's between me and Roman," Seth scoffs, trying once more to pull free of Mox's tight grip. "Dean-" He falls silent as Mox pushes him back against the wall, a feral look in his deep, blue eyes, and Seth stares at him, overwhelmed by his pure presence like he was every other time they were this close to each other. "What are you doing?" he asks around numb lips.

"Roman isn't the only one," Mox grits out, as if it hurts to admit. "I'm worried about you too. You're spiraling, and I'm not even there anymore to pound some sense back into you, remind you of..."

"Remind me of what?" Seth grouses. "What could _you_ possibly remind me of, _Mox?_"

Mox doesn't move, their eyes locked, breathing loud and raspy, before he plants an arm against Seth's chest and pins him against the freezing brick, tangling his fingers in the folds of Seth's leather jacket before claiming his lips in a rough, mind-shattering kiss that Seth gasps into, before realization washes over him, and he almost bites his way free, hands pushing aimlessly at Mox's chest, until sharp, desperate yearning crashes into him and he moans, hand creeping under Mox's jacket, a lot more worn than Seth's. Mox presses more insistently into him and Seth gasps, his free hand traveling upwards and tugging helplessly at Mox's hair as he gives into the sensations, his body quivering under the overwhelming sensations of Mox's touch, his lips.

"Please-" Seth moans against Mox's lips, but Mox pulls away a moment later, resting his forehead against Seth's and trying to compose himself. Seth's eyes are blown, his lips bruised, as he stares at Mox, shocked and unable to move or respond beyond the shaky little gasping sounds he keeps making.

"That," he finally says, voice rough and gravelly. Seth hates him, a little, for how steady he still sounds, looking as smooth and put together, the same bad ass image he always puts together not tarnished in the slightest as the aged leather hugs him just right. "No matter what happens," he tells him, swiping a finger over Seth's lips. "This thing between us will always be there, and I'll just have to come by more when I think you need me to, to remind you of that."

Seth swallows hard, dropping his head back against the bricks as Mox turns and walks away, the cold creeping through his clothes feeling worse now than it had before. He forces his eyes open when Mox stops and turns to look back at him. "What?" he forces out through trembling lips.

"I'm sure I'll see you one way or another during the holidays," he says, casting a glance up at the wreath on the wall casting a faint glow over Seth. "Until then, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Seth scoffs as Mox disappears into the shadows, leaving him cold and feeling vulnerable all over again. "Sure, whatever you say," he mumbles, finally turning and trudging back towards where his car is parked so he can hopefully get some sleep and forget the last hour.


	10. Chapter 10

Aleister is quiet as he lets himself inside, taking his cue from how dark, how quiet the house is. He locks the door behind him and toes his shoes off before walking through the rooms, still a little thrown by how quiet, how glum everything within looks. In comparison to the year prior, the house is barely decorated, only a scantily decorated tree in the living room, and a faint purple glow coming from the bedroom hints at Christmas being just a couple of weeks away at all. Not that he blames Dream, honestly- his nagging back injury coupled with the loss of the North American championship would've been disheartening to anyone. Still, it's odd to see his home so dark and quiet as he walks through the hall, pausing outside of Dream's room.

He holds his breath as he pushes the door open, relieved when it doesn't squeak or groan, and peeks inside. Dream is flat on his stomach, only a towel covering his body, and his personal masseuse is diligently working over his back. _Rehab must've been bad today,_ he thinks, frowning as he slips inside and holds a finger to his lips, the woman nodding as she catches sight of him. He pads over to the bed and tugs his wallet out, offering her a $20. She eyes Dream for a moment before they smoothly transition- the money from his hand to hers, her fingers easing off of Dream's glistening skin to be immediately replaced by Aleister's, the brief pause not enough to stir Dream from where he's pressed into his pillow.

She mouths a _thank you_ to him before taking her leave, but Aleister barely pays her any mind, eyes trailing over Dream's back. She'd clearly just finished with his legs, massage oil still drying into his flesh, and most of his back remains untouched, so Aleister sets to work, warming a fresh dose of the oil in his palm before spreading it over his flesh, rubbing it in as thoroughly as he dares, intending on easing his discomfort, not adding more onto it. He works quietly for a few moments, enjoying how the purple lights gleaming overhead reflects off of Dream's flesh, when his fingers skim over a particularly sore spot and Dream tenses up under him, groaning into his pillow. Aleister immediately eases back and leans over Dream. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he whispers into his ear, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. "Just breathe, Patrick."

"Aleister," he mutters once he finds his voice again. "What'd you do to Pamela?"

"Tipped her well and sent her on her way so I could take care of you," Aleister says, pausing. "Or try to, anyway," he murmurs, ghosting his fingers over the bunch of painfully clenched muscles towards Dream's lower back. "Perhaps I should've kept her here-"

"No," Dream sighs, pressing his face back into his pillow. "It would've happened with her too. I just wasn't expecting it. Please, carry on."

"Really?" Aleister asks, frowning at the back of his head.

"It's the only way to make it feel better," Dream grumbles, waving a hand dispassionately towards him.

Used to his antics, Aleister smirks a bit before turning his attention back to Dream's body, fingers sliding over the oil slicked skin until finding where he'd been at earlier and resuming the massage. Dream clearly aches, each new spot Aleister finds to work over waking up new levels of agony, but Aleister also observes how, with time and careful pressure, he relaxes more and more as well, his back muscles slowly unclenching under Aleister's fingers. He rubs briskly, quietly, doing his best to make it last, as Dream drifts sleepily, breathing deeply into the pillow.

He exhales softly as he finishes, giving a few more cursory rubs up and down Dream's spine to make sure he hasn't missed anything, before stepping away. He unbuttons his pants, letting them coil around his ankles before kicking them away, shrugging his vest off next. He slips into bed next to Dream and looks him over, drawn once more to how good he looks shrouded in purple light. Sighing quietly, he stares up at the ceiling, blinking slowly as exhaustion creeps up on him as well. Before he can fall asleep entirely, Dream shifts, exhales low and deep, before gingerly rolling over onto his side and dropping an arm over Aleister's waist, shifting over to press against his side. Aleister glances down at him and smiles, pressing his arm along the smooth, slick line of Dream's back. "Hello."

"Hey," Dream murmurs, barely clinging to consciousness. "Happy you're home."

Aleister shifts, presses a kiss to Dream's lips. "Me too," he says quietly, closing his eyes as they drift in each other's arms, both fast asleep within minutes.


	11. Chapter 11

"Hey, where is Dalton?" Brent asks one of the boys as they walk past them at the entrance to the mansion they all live in. Brandon hesitates behind him and waits for an answer, their luggage forgotten at their feet as their fellow boy thinks for a moment.

"On the beach," he says finally. "Do you want...?" He motions towards their bags, eager to get noticed by doing something helpful, but both twins shake their heads.

"No thanks, we've got them," Brent tells him and they continue on inside, leaving their bags behind in Dalton's room and turning to the closet. "The beach, huh?"

"Yeah," Brandon says quietly, already pushing clothes aside to find what he's looking for. Tossing some trunks at his brother, he moves to strip out of the restrictive clothing they'd picked for both the WWE tryout and their flight back, relieved to be back home where they can relax and be more themselves, less business casual and more bright, comfortable beach wear.

Brent feels like he can breathe a little easier once they make it across the acres of Dalton's lawn, through grass and sun-warmed driveway to the beach, the sand tickling their bare feet as they walk towards where Dalton is sprawled out on a towel colored like peacock feathers, his cheek pressed against his palm as he looks out over the crystal blue water, soft waves teasing up close to his toes every few moments. He seems to sense them when they're still a few feet away, fingers of his free hands coming to a stop while sifting through the sand, and he slowly eases onto his back, arms outstretched on either side.

Brandon and Brent exchange a glance before scrambling over to him, kneeling down and snuggling into him, Brent tucking up under Dalton's jaw while Brandon rests his head on his shoulder and brushes his fingers over his abs. "There my pretty boys are," Dalton says with a small smile. "How did the tryouts go?"

"Good? I think?" Brent says slowly, Brandon offering little more than a shrug and exhale.

"Oh please, they'd be fools not to sign you," Dalton huffs, lightly brushing his fingers through Brent's hair. "You looked incredible in the article they posted about it."

"I saw you liked our tweets," Brandon says, tilting his face and looking up at Dalton until he kisses him.

"Yes, I did," Dalton murmurs against his lips. "Very much."

Brandon lets out a sheepish little giggle, shaking his head. "I- I meant on Twitter," he breathes out.

"I know what you meant," Dalton teases him. "And you know what I meant."

Brandon blushes and buries his face back in Dalton's shoulder, relieved when Dalton turns his attention back to Brent, tracing his fingers over his lips, searching his face.

"I think it went well," Brent says. "But who knows. There were so many people there. We could've gotten lost in the shuffle."

Dalton grips Brent's jaw and draws him closer, kissing him with similar intensity to what he'd just offered Brandon. "By what I saw, none of the others shine like you two," he says, lips twitching up when Brent's eyes gleam.

They lay for awhile, enjoying each other's company and the soft sound of the waves rushing against the sand, until Dalton clears his throat and gets up. "Come, pretty boys," he says, holding a hand out to both of them. "I have something to show you."

They exchange glances before taking Dalton's hands and letting him tug them to their feet, following him quietly back to the mansion. He leads them through the back doors and through the kitchen, down the hall to the living room, where the Christmas tree- _just_ shy of being garishly decorated- stands tall, almost seeming to fill up most of the room as the three of them stare at it, lights flickering cheerfully and illuminating every corner of it. "What is it, Dalton?" Brent asks, confused, as the three of them had worked together to put the tree together before the boys had left for Florida.

Dalton smiles, drapes his arms over both boys' shoulders and draws them closer to the tree, only pulling away when they're directly in front of it, grazing gentle fingers over the ornaments, before hooking a couple off of the tree by their ties, turning to the boys. "Hold your hands out," he says softly and, once the boys have done so, he eases one ornament into Brandon's palms, the other coming to rest in Brent's.

The twins stare in awe at the ornaments in their hands, looking up at Dalton. "Wha- how- _Dalton,_" Brent gasps out, staring at himself in gingerbread form, hair style, piercings, even their newest gear reflected in the painted clay. "You-"

Dalton's grin grows. "You both have enjoyed looking at the WWE gingerbread men for the last few years every time they release new ones every holiday season," he says quietly. "So I figure, since you're both on the brink of being signed yourself, you can have these to look at. And in a few years, once you've become a household name, and have shirts and ornaments and everything else possible made for you, you can have these to reflect on your first step towards your goals."

Brandon carefully puts his ornament down before throwing his arms around Dalton's neck, hugging him tight. "I love you," he says, kissing him. "So much."

Dalton is so distracted by Brandon that he barely notices Brent hasn't reacted until he looks up to find a frown on Brent's face. "What's wrong? Don't you like them?" he asks, worried.

Brent licks his lips, glancing askance at Dalton. "I love them," he says softly. "But they're missing something." He walks over to the fireplace, where peacock feathers trail over the mantle like garland, and gently pries some of the feathers away, pressing them into the string used to secure the ornament to the tree, staring at Dalton solidly as he does. "It doesn't matter where we sign, we'll never forget our origins, or what helped us make it here."

Brandon makes a soft noise before scooping his ornament up tenderly and echoing his brother's actions. "That looks more like it," he says happily.

Dalton bites his lip, staring at them in awe. "Oh, my boys," he says, watching as they put the ornaments back on the tree. "That _does_ look better." The twins grin and step back, standing side by side with him as he wraps his arms around them. "I love you both."

"Love you too," the twins murmurs, snuggling tight against Dalton and staring up at the tree happily.


	12. Chapter 12

Shinsuke laughs, tilting his head to try to see the blurry image on his phone. "Hold it still," he chides teasingly. "I will get motion sickness at this rate."

Kazuchika gasps and rights his phone, turning it back towards him. "Hai, my mistake!" he says with a sheepish giggle. "I wasn't paying attention."

"I could tell," Nakamura says dryly and Okada grins brightly, outshining all of the Christmas decorations surrounding both of them. Thousands of miles and an ocean dividing them, and yet they're still spending part of the holiday together, bundled up in jackets and boots, gloved hands clinging to their phones as they show off the decorations as best as they can over a poorly lit phone camera.

"Look," Okada offers, standing very still this time and holding his phone up, allowing Nakamura a decent view of a massive tree decorated beautifully at the entrance of a shopping center. They both quietly observe the flashing lights and gleaming ornaments before Okada looks closer at his phone, watching as Nakamura gingerly moves along a line of wreaths along a wall, letting Kazuchika get a good look at the different lights and bows adorning each.

"I do enjoy Christmas," Nakamura sighs, trudging up the sidewalk towards another stretch of businesses with bright lights and merry decorations waiting to beguile Okada for a little longer.

"As do I," Okada says, holding his phone close to his chest as he walks quickly across a street to find more to show Shinsuke as well. "I still have your gingerbread ornament."

Shinsuke laughs. "Ah yes, that thing," he says, smirking as he traces his fingers over a lit up reindeer gleaming through the window of a grocery store. "WWE provides the most interesting merchandise ideas sometimes." He stares into his phone and chuckles. "I imagine you regret not signing as well, then you could have gingerbread ornaments as well."

Okada laughs, a little sharp, catching low in his throat. "Maybe. But not because of the ornaments." He stares down at his phone for a moment, eyes dark and intense, and Shinsuke exhales.

"Ah, but you are IWGP champion, it is good for you to remain on your own path awhile longer yet," he says quietly, easing into a more lit area so Okada could see him easier.

"It is," he concedes, stopping under a street light for much the same reason. "Nothing has quite been the same since, however."

"I know," Nakamura says. "It was not an easy adjustment period. There have been a lot of changes for you in such a short time." His leaving. Gedo betraying Okada. Tanahashi becoming an ally of Okada after years of being rivals. On and on. "But I suppose it's just how the business is. Hm? And life."

"Yes, that is true," Okada says with a faint smile. "I am trying to be better at accepting it. I suppose that means I am growing up."

"Ay," Shinsuke responds in faux horror. "Little Kazu is _maturing? _Whatever will we do then?"

Okada laughs at his overly dramatic tone and shrugs. "Your guess is as good as mine." He exhales, looks over at the clock flashing on a business sign just within view. "I suppose I have to go back home and get some rest now," he says reluctantly. "I didn't realize it was getting so late."

Nakamura checks the time on his phone and hisses out a breath. "Hai, I have to as well. Leaving early in the morning for the holiday tour." He smiles down at his phone. "Merry Christmas, Kazu-chan. We will talk soon."

He nods, teeth gleaming as he grins back. "Merry Christmas, Shin-chan."


	13. Chapter 13

Dolph stirs with a faint groan, kicking out towards the other side of the bed. "Broski. _Broski._ Zack?" He grumbles and squints an eye open, looking next to him to find the bed empty. Cool. He moans and mutters curses, untangling himself from the sheets that had curled around his legs in the middle of the night and stumbles into a cheerfully lit hallway, hesitating outside of the living room as he peeks in, finding the tree gleaming merrily although he himself had turned it off for the night only a couple of hours earlier.

Zack is settled on the couch, looking comfortable and purely at ease in a tank top and boxers, the newest kitten he'd decided to adopt laying sprawled out on his arm, looking up with wide, watchful eyes. Dolph can hear the older cats wandering around, their nails on the hard wood floor easy to track, but Zack pays them no mind. "... since it's the holidays here, and we really go all out with it, that's what you have to adjust to," he tells the kitten solemnly. "The two other cats, they'll come around, you just have to give them time. It'll work out. And the loud blond that wears way too much pink? He already likes you, I can tell, he just has a weird way of showing it sometimes." He boops the kitten's nose and laughs when she clings to his arms in response, Zack jokingly lifting her up and putting her back down. "When you get a little bigger, that could almost be a decent enough work out."

He sprawls his fingers over her belly, watching as she settles back down, still staring at him intensely. "I think you'll like it here. We'll take good care of you, you'll have food and toys, and other cats around. It doesn't sound so terrible, right?" The kitten clearly has no idea what he's saying, settling further into his arms and closing her eyes as her busy day catches up with her. Zack smiles as he looks up, spotting Dolph hovering in the doorway. "Hey, bro, come on in, what are you doing out there in the dark?"

Dolph sighs and makes his way slowly over to Zack, careful not to jostle the kitten as he sits down next to him. "Rough night?"

"Hmm, kind of," Zack says. "She was, like, bouncing all over the bed so I brought her out here so you could sleep awhile longer. Guess I ended up waking you anyway. Sorry, bro."

Dolph shrugs tiredly, resting his head on Zack's shoulder. "It was too quiet and still, that's all," he murmurs. Until the draft, they'd been used to traveling together, sharing hotel rooms, making do with whatever sized beds were available, but now, the only time they get to sleep next to each other is when they're at home, which is somewhat rare, so Zack isn't too surprised Dolph is so observant of the lack of him in their own bed.

"Sorry," he says again, stroking Dolph's jaw and drawing his face up for a slow, lazy kiss. "Next time I'll let the kitty wake you up."

Dolph rolls his eyes at him and turns to look at the tree for a bit longer. "You're really good with them," he offers after a few moments.

Zack looks down at him, shifting so he can lift his hand, slowly carding his fingers through Dolph's hair. "Yeah? Thanks, bro. I wasn't sure if I would be, but I really do enjoy watching them grow and learning more about their personalities and stuff." He grins as the kitten stirs, stretches out, her upper paws pressed against Zack's forearm while her back paws snag in Dolph's tank top.

He huffs and gingerly frees her before she wakes up, before catching Zack's eye. "I wear too much pink, huh?"

Zack laughs quietly. "Oh come on, bro, you've been wearing something with pink in it since we brought her home. It seemed as easy a way to describe you as anything else."

Dolph rolls his eyes. "You've been wearing purple for just as long." He pauses, a strange thought coming to him as he glances down at the cat still lounging between them. "Do you think cats can see pink?"

Zack blinks hard at him, lips twitching upwards. "I have no idea, bro. How is it that we're just now thinking about this sort of thing?" Dolph shrugs and Zack chuckles. "Here, I dunno about you, but I could really use some sleep." He gently eases the kitten into Dolph's hands and stands. "Let's go to bed and, if we still remember that question by morning, we'll have to look it up."

Dolph smirks. "Alright." He stands very carefully, very slowly, and once he's fully upright, Zack grins at him, cups his face and lightly kisses him, Dolph exhaling against his lips. "What was that for?" he mumbles.

"For being really good with my cats too," Zack tells him, eyes gleaming in the soft glow of the Christmas tree.

Dolph stares down at the kitten before shrugging. "I guess they make it easy," he muses, lips twitching up into a smile as he carries the kitten back to the bedroom, Zack following close behind once he's shut everything off once again.


	14. Chapter 14

Since Shane lost to Kevin Owens and had lost his position on Smackdown, he's become more distant, burying himself in other work, trying to find _something_ to fill the sudden void in his time. AJ's busy himself, with OC business, and the aftermath of losing his US title so damn abruptly. Still, it's well into December, and they haven't even really _decorated_ yet, neither of them really finding the time or energy to consider what they want to do this year. He looks around the dreary, lifeless rooms and shakes his head, kneeling onto the couch near where Shane is poring over whatever's flashing on his laptop screen. "Hey, I gotta go."

"Oh," Shane says, looking up. Takes his glasses off and puts the laptop aside. "Right, I'm sorry I've been so distracted this morning, you know how the business world is. Always hopping."

AJ actually has no clue, but he keeps that thought to himself as Shane leans over and cradles his face in his hands, kissing AJ warmly. "I'll miss you while I'm gone," he says, resting his forehead against Shane's.

"I'll miss you too," Shane murmurs.

"We _really_ need to do somethin' about decoratin' this place," AJ says after a few moments of just absorbing Shane's presence. "Ya know?"

"Yeah, I was thinking about that," Shane admits with a sheepish grin. "We will, I swear."

"We better." AJ's hand trails up Shane's side and he grimaces, hating to break up this moment. "I'm sorry, I'm gonna be late."

"It's fine," Shane says, eyes gleaming in the faint light overhead. "Next time."

"Damn right," AJ sighs, leaning in and kissing him. "I'll text ya when I make it."

"You do that," Shane says, sitting back and watching AJ slowly pull himself together, getting off of the couch and collecting his luggage before heading to the door, stopping to look back at Shane. "Love ya, Allen."

AJ smirks. "Love ya too, Shane." And just like that, he's gone, leaving Shane to lean back against the cushions and look around their non-festive rooms, exhaling slowly.

"Huh," he sighs.

It's a long few days for AJ, flight disruptions seem to only get worse this close to the holidays, some people are more cheerful, others are only angrier, and wrestling... well, between Randy Orton and Rey Mysterio, there's little for AJ to do but seethe in frustration anymore. He curls his hands into fists and stares out of the window as the plane he's on departs slowly, relieved to finally make it back to New York to spend his few days off with Shane, decompress from all of the _crap_ he's just endured.

The car is waiting for him right where he'd left it in long-term parking, and he drives as fast as he dares to avoid getting a ticket but also just _anxious_ to get home. Thumps his thumbs against the steering wheel to distract himself whenever he gets caught in traffic or at a red light, and finally breathes a little easier when he sees Shane's penthouse apartment overhead. "Finally. Geez." He drives around a bit to find a place to park, finally managing to squeeze in to a spot not very far away, pulling his luggage out of the trunk and trudging up the sidewalk into the building.

It's warm and smells nice inside and he takes a few seconds just to breathe it in, allow himself to shake off some of the December chill, before heading for the elevator. He's lost in thought, barely aware of what's in front of him, when he unlocks the door and heads inside. He _does_, however, notice when he almost falls face first over something. "Ah son of a- what the-?!" he sputters and yells, only just hearing Shane coming rushing towards him.

"Allen! Are you ok?" He grips AJ's arms and steadies him, frowning. "Man, I'm sorry, I was trying to sort through our decorations, and-" He stops and shakes his head. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," he grouses. "Man." He squints over all of the boxes and frowns at Shane. "I didn't realize we had so much stuff."

"Me neither, not entirely," Shane says with a sheepish grin. "Wanna come look at some of it with me?"

AJ's tired. He's stressed out, annoyed, and now his ankle hurts on top of everything else. But Shane looks so hopeful, eyes wide and twinkling with joy, that he can't say no. "Sure," he murmurs.

Looking at everything in the boxes turns into pure old decorating, despite AJ's exhaustion, and before he knows it, soft Christmas music is playing from Shane's laptop, and they have the tree partially up, lights and garland and various ornaments covering every possible surface as they figure out what to do next. Shane chuckles warmly, kneeling next to him, looking so happy that AJ thinks he couldn't deny him even at his lowest. "I'm happy you're home," Shane tells him, holding out a shiny penguin ornament to him that AJ thinks Shane said he's had since he was a child

AJ lays the penguin down gently, looking around at the mess, so much still left to do before the penthouse looks holiday ready, before turning his gaze back to Shane's. "So am I," he says simply, reaching out and tugging Shane closer, kissing him. "Thank you for finally gettin' us started on this."

Shane beams, and lingers against AJ for a few, soft moments before pulling away hesitantly. "Any time," he says quietly. "But c'mon, we've got _so_ much to do."

AJ grumbles as Shane reaches down and catches his hands, pulling him up from the ground with a cheerful grunt. "Yeah, but it'll look amazing when we're done."

Shane's grin only seems to grow, the little boy that he so rarely got to be when younger shining through. "Yeah, I think so too."

AJ reaches back for the penguin ornament and catches Shane's hand, the two of them together putting it on the tree, the very first ornament of the season. "Merry Christmas, Shane," he says softly, smiling over at him.

"Merry Christmas, Allen," Shane echoes back, grinning warmly at him.


	15. Chapter 15

Neville's voice is distinctive. Even on the other side of the house, when he's trying to be quiet, there's this intensity, a solid strength that travels through walls, and wakes TJ up with a gasp. He blinks sleepily and wipes at his face, groaning softly before rolling out of bed, kicking the tangled sheets away from him. He pads to the door and pushes it open, walking quietly down the hall. He stops in the doorway to the living room, blinking slowly. The tree is on, star flashing cheerfully, and Neville is sitting on the couch, voice filling the quiet as he reads aloud from the book held in the crook of one arm.

TJ leans against the wall, listening, when he realizes that Neville isn't alone- Pugsley is propped up against his other arm, snuffling softly as he lays there quietly. A smile crosses TJ's face as he peeks in, taking in his significant other finishing a paragraph and stroking his thumb down Pugsley's snout in soothing, repetitive motions. "Utter bullocks, isn't it, Puggy?" he asks, sighing softly and adjusting his glasses before continuing on, the words flowing with confidence as Pugsley drifts slowly to sleep, still tucked close to Neville's side.

TJ smiles and listens on until Neville gets to the end of another paragraph and yawns just loudly enough to be heard, stretching and pushing away from the wall, padding into the room and squinting against the sharp glow of the tree. "Hey," he says softly, propping against Neville's other side, resting his head on his shoulder. "Can't sleep?"

"Not really," Neville says, resting his cheek against TJ's hair. "Just jetlag, it'll pass. It always does."

TJ hums. "Is that Pug's excuse too?" he teases and Neville snorts, putting a marker in his book and setting it aside, carding his fingers through TJ's dark hair.

"I don't believe so, my coming home seemed to wake him up and excited him," he sighs. "So I brought him over here before he disrupted Cupcake."

"You were reading to him," TJ says quietly and Neville grimaces. "It was cute." He leans up and lightly kisses Neville on the mouth. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"You'd better not," Neville grouses, pinching his arm lightly and causing TJ to exhale sharply before he settles back down against Neville. "For whatever reason, he seems to enjoy the cadence of my voice."

"Funny that, so do I," TJ says, already sounding like he's half-asleep.

Neville makes a soft, huffing sound, _nearly _amused, before adjusting his hold on TJ and curling his arm around Pugsley, working out how to support the book as well, and finding where exactly he'd cut off when TJ had entered the room.

As the tree flashes cheerfully and his family dozes around him, Neville resumes reading softly, still a little too wired to find rest himself, but pleased enough to help them sleep comfortably.


	16. Chapter 16

"I knew you were intelligent and crafty," Jack begins, tilting his head and looking up with a smirk. "But this is the most genius idea I believe you've ever had."

Brian smirks down at him and sips lazily from the fruity, alcoholic drink Jack had brought back the last time he'd excused himself. "Ya know, Jacky boy, I think it is too." Brian is lounging comfortably in a chair, legs spread to accomodate Jack as he leans back against Brian's chest. His free hand trails up Jack's bare skin, dancing over his abs, up his pecs, before he curls his fingers around Jack's throat, just enough pressure for Jack to _feel_ it. He tightens his knees around Jack's hips, along his thighs, and chuckles when Jack exhales slowly, leaning deeper into Brian's warmth, distracted by the faint murmur of the waves washing over the sand. "Maybe Hawaii will become _our_ place."

"I'd like that," Jack says softly, eyes fluttering shut as Brian shifts closer and kisses him, the moment drawing on and on as it turns hotter, the two playfully warring for dominance, tongues and teeth and panting breaths all that matters between them for a few moments.

"At some point, we do have to figure out our next step though." Brian pulls away reluctantly and presses a kiss between Jack's eyes, lips quirking wryly. "I appreciated you taking Maverick down for me, but... hm. Maybe it's something you and I can work on together."

"Interesting things do happen when our goals are the same," Jack says lowly and Brian nods.

"Yeah." They lay quietly, taking in the beginning shades of red and orange overwhelming the sky as the sun slowly sets. Brian stirs after a moment and nudges Jack. "I have something for you."

Jack blinks. Sits up a bit and turns to see Brian properly. "For me? A gift? Seriously, Mr. Kendrick-" His words die away when Brian tangles his fingers around the back of his neck and draws him closer, kissing him speechless. When he pulls away again, Jack blinks at him, eyes blown.

Brian smirks at him, tracing a finger over his lips before reaching under the chair and pulling out a small box, carefully setting it in Jack's palms and curling his fingers around it. "Happy Christmas, Jack."

Jack exhales lowly, staring down at the box, fingers twitching and trembling as he pulls it open. He gasps and clicks it shut after barely a glance, shaking his head with a faint, choking sound. "_Brian._"

Brian stares at him, brows quirking upwards. "I didn't even ask yet, Jack. A little premature to deny it, don't you think?" He takes the box lightly from Jack and smirks. "I guess it is a little eclectic, but, well, what else would you expect from me?" He takes in the pale shock on Jack's face and shifts his hold on the box. "But maybe I shouldn't have gotten it at all. Never mind-" He moves like he's about to throw it out into the ocean, when Jack's hands close sharply over his, trapping the box between their fingers.

"Don't you _dare,_" he says vehemently, eyes flashing as he slips off of the chair and shakes his head, tugging at his lips. "Dammit, Brian." He laughs weakly and reaches over for the umbrella sitting folded up by Brian's chair, opening it with a haphazard sort of shake, something hard rebounding off of Brian's leg as it falls out.

"Wha-?" Brian stares as Jack collects it out of the sand. "What is that?"

"That, you daft man," Jack says softly, "is my answer to yours." He holds up his own ring box and Brian slaps a hand to his forehead. "I was going to ask you after dinner, when the time felt right." He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "How do we do this now?"

Brian stands, loosely wraps his fingers around Jack's. "I guess..." They stare at each other, warmth and happiness curling around them. Finally putting the mess with Gulak behind them, and finding themselves on the same page so thoroughly that they both had taken this step at the same time. "Jack...?"

"Brian," Jack says softly. Both fight grins as they search each other's eyes. "Will you marry me?" The words blend beautifully together. Even more so when they chorus, "Yes, I will." Slipping the rings on carefully, Jack finally gets a good look at the deep blue ring that he had barely caught a glimpse of earlier before nerves claimed him and Brian stares at the warm purple swirling through the base of his own ring.

"That's amazing," Jack murmurs. "It reminds me of your jacket in a way."

"Purple," Brian says, sounding almost uncertain as he takes it in.

Jack stares at him. "Yes," he responds quietly. "Because the cruiserweight division would've been nothing without people like yourself paving the way for the rest of us, fighting for any opportunity when guys our size were mostly overlooked."

Brian smiles, glancing at him. "See, that's the kind of respect I'm looking for. Not that difficult, is it?"

"No, not so much," Jack chuckles, leaning in and kissing him. "Merry Christmas, fiance."

"Right back atcha, fiance," Brian says, pressing his forehead against Jack's and peering into his eyes warmly.


	17. Chapter 17

Leaning against the wall next to the unlit Christmas tree, Drake stares absently out of the window, watching the sun slowly rise. Sleep hasn't come easy lately, his muddled thoughts racing, keeping him awake when he sorely needs rest. He tenses when he hears the door squeak and sleep-heavy footsteps thudding down the hall towards him, exhaling sharply when a kiss is pressed to the top of his head. "Hey, what're you doing up at this hour?" Ethan wonders, settling down across from him and taking his hand, brushing his thumb lightly over his knuckles.

Drake searches Ethan's face for a long moment, before looking down at their hands. "I... I don't know," he says feebly. This only makes Ethan frown harder and Drake attempts to explain, "I just can't stop thinking. I guess."

"Thinking about what?" Ethan wonders.

Drake mulls over his words, trying to formulate the right response, before he really _looks_ at Ethan. Takes in his pale complexion, how unfocused his eyes are, his hair all over the place. It's really been an absolute shit year for both of them, in different ways, but as much as Drake may have an excuse for his actions, Ethan's the one who's taken it all on the chin and kept coming back for more. The wedding, Drake's weeks of obsession over the 24/7 title wiping away everything else that was once important to him, their being drafted onto separate brands, and now... Drake swallows hard. This thing with Dana.

It doesn't mean anything to him, he's just desperate and sleep deprived, and sometimes he misses the relative safety of 205 Live, where he could have the strength of his title behind him, but now that he's alone on Smackdown, he's just a small man still suffering from partial amnesia, overwhelmed and unable to do anything of any real significance. Flirting with Dana, picking fights with Elias and whoever else, at least gives him _something_ to do to distract from the maelstrom going on in his own head.

He licks his lips, searches Ethan's face. Decides to tell him the truth. "I've been..." He falters, feels Ethan's fingers curl more tightly around his knuckles, silent encouragement. "I've been having memories. I think."

Ethan's lips part, and he blinks at Drake, suddenly well awake. "Memories? You mean... Like...?"

Drake nods. "I mean, I always kind of did? Little flashes here and there, but this is... full on... crystal clear memories of my career post 2002, things in England." He exhales shakily. "Us." His eyes are wide and desperate when he looks up at Ethan. "I remember pretty much everything, sir."

Ethan coughs into his fist, absolutely floored by this revelation. "For how long?" he wonders softly.

"I've been remembering more the last few weeks," he says. "Maybe a month. It's just the last couple of weeks, I..." He looks away, then squares his shoulders and faces Ethan head on. "I remembered everything about prison. I remembered you firing me, I remembered... our match." His free hand gingerly scrapes through his hair, eyes blank with memories.

Ethan closes his eyes and gently lets Drake's hand slip through his fingers, pain etched into his face. "No wonder you've been acting so distant the last few weeks, I thought maybe it was just the draft, you adjusting to being on Smackdown, but... I- I guess this all makes sense. Everything with Dana."

Drake flexes his fingers, biting his lip as a chill creeps up his spine. "Sir," he says feebly, waiting until Ethan opens his eyes. "I- I'm struggling to process everything. You truly, absolutely seemed to hate me back then. How- why are we still...?" He waves his hand around at their apartment, shaking his head in confusion. "It... _That_ is still muddled up here." He knocks his knuckles against his temple and shivers when Ethan reaches out and clutches his hand again, drawing it against his chest. "It makes no sense," he whispers, beseeching Ethan to explain to him. "Sir, I try to understand it based on what you've told me, but-"

Ethan adjusts his grip before tugging Drake over to sit on his lap, curling a hand around Drake's neck and holding him close. "I'm just too good of an actor for my own good," he says softly. "We had quite a few conversations about it, maybe you don't remember, or maybe it's what's muddled up in your head with everything else. I don't know, but I told you before everything we did back then was for my aunt's benefit, so she wouldn't fight too hard to undo what Angle did by rehiring you to TNA under a performer's contract. My goal was to get your visa to the States reinstated, and it succeeded. It sucked, and it hurt both of us, but I was able to keep you here, and that was the important thing," he says into Drake's hair. "I never imagined you'd suffer head trauma and lose a good deal of your memories."

Drake slowly pulls away and rasps a hand over Ethan's jaw, searching his eyes. "Neither did I, sir," he says with a faint grin, Ethan huffing out a laugh at him.

"So," he murmurs, cutting into the silence after a couple of minutes, "you remember more things about us now? I know you say you remembered a lot of the bad, do you remember any good times?"

Drake's brows furrow for a moment and he rests his forehead against Ethan's, lips twitching up into a soft smile. "Yes, I think so."

Ethan hums. "Wanna share any of them... tiger?" he teases, and it's Drake's turn to laugh faintly.

"I would make a ridiculous gazelle, sir," he says, eyes gleaming.

"Oh, I don't know, I think you have the legs for it," Ethan says, lightly pinching his thigh and causing Drake to gasp. "Anything else?"

"Our wrestling session was interesting," Drake offers after a few moments and Ethan laughs again, his hands easing over Drake's hips.

"That's one way to put it," he hums. "Anything else?"

Drake stares at him for a quiet, pensive moment, and then, "I remember the first time you said you loved me."

Ethan takes longer to respond to this, remembering it too- trapped in the middle of the drama with Dixie and all of the fall out from jail and everything else, and... "Yeah," he breathes out. "It holds true to this day, you know." He smiles at Drake. "It always will."

Drake lets out a muffled sound, half like a whimper, half like a sob, and presses into Ethan, tangling his fingers into Ethan's sleep mussed hair and kissing him intensely, Ethan's hold on him tightening as he eagerly responds, _feeling_ the truth behind Drake's words- he kisses differently now, more like before, when each moment was precious, emotions close to the surface, and they knew they could lose each other at any time thanks to Dixie or Drake's immigration station or just anything. He's breathing raggedly when he pulls away, eyes shut tight. "I love you too, sir. So much. And I'm so, so sorry-"

"You have nothing to apologize for," Ethan whispers, pressing a finger to Drake's lips. "Absolutely nothing. You know why?"

Drake shakes his head, eyes wet and desperate as he looks at Ethan. "Why?"

"Because it didn't matter- what you could remember, your marriage, the draft, _Dana,_" he says dryly. "You always came back here, to our home, to me. That was all of the proof I needed about how you really felt about me." He cradles Drake's face in his hands once more and smiles down at him. "But to know that you are remembering more and more, ... this is the best Christmas gift you could've ever given me."

Drake exhales shakily and nuzzles into Ethan's palms, kissing them. "Oh sir," he whispers. "I don't know how I ever could've forgotten."

"Next time," he says dryly, "be more careful at the gym. Ok?" He kisses the spot on Drake's forehead where he'd been bandaged a couple of years back. "I can't go through this again."

"You won't," Drake promises, clinging to his hands. "I swear." His words falter as he yawns widely, blinking slowly, and Ethan smiles a little.

"Think you can sleep now?"

Drake quirks an eyebrow at him. "Maybe," he says.

"Maybe," Ethan teases back. "Well, I suppose we should find out." He keeps a tight hold of Drake as he stands up and steadies his balance before leaving the living room, Drake's legs wrapped around him as he rests his head on Ethan's shoulder, eyes already fluttering closed as Ethan carries him into their bedroom.

He's not surprised when he lays Drake down, just to find him fast asleep as soon as he settles into the pillows. "I knew it. Good night, tiger," he whispers, leaning in and gently kissing him on the lips. After watching him sleep for awhile, Ethan settles down and curls a protective hand around Drake's waist, sleep claiming him quickly as well.


	18. Chapter 18

Joaquin is working out in the Performance Center, still working out a few kinks he'd noticed in his first televised match back on 205 Live, breathing steadily as he moves faster, trying to figure out his body's durability and what he needs to work the most on, when voices come towards the training room's doors. He pauses and peeks up, eyes lighting up when he realizes it's Robbie, who hovers outside of the doors with Riddick Moss. Joaquin frowns a little upon noticing the other man, rolling out of the ring. Things are a little awkward between Robbie's 'brand' and him, Robbie clearly going out of his way to avoid Joaquin whenever he's with them for whatever reason. Joaquin has his suspicions but does his best to keep them to himself, rolling out of the ring and crawling under the apron in an attempt to hide until he can make his escape.

"...just one thing I don't understand," Riddick says as Robbie hesitates to let him enter the facility first.

"What's that?" Robbie asks, walking up to the ring and leaning against the turnbuckle post, watching him as he enters the ring.

"You're so determined to make your brand great, and all you ever do is talk up how incredible Joaquin is, I could probably recite it in my sleep. Why don't you manage him too? Make him a member of the Outliers."

Robbie mulls it over for a few moments, then shrugs. "I just don't see the point," he says. "He's got his own things going on now, with this 205 Live stuff. I doubt he'd be interested, and truthfully, neither am I."

Joaquin bites his lip, hard, to keep the pained sound welling up in his throat from escaping. He waits until Robbie's moved away to crawl out of the opposite site of the ring and make his escape from the training facility, definitely not wanting to see either of them right now. He closes his eyes, walking unsteadily out of the Performance Center, and finds his car. He sits in the driver's seat, taps his fingers against the steering wheel, and tries not to have a panic attack as he replays Robbie's voice, the dismissive tone he spoke in. "Oh God," he mumbles, slamming down the gas and peeling out of the parking lot.

How he ends up at the park outside of their apartment complex, he's not sure, but he pulls himself out of the car and walks around in a loop, tracing his fingers over the decorated trees lining the roads twisting throughout it, and sits under the gazebo, staring up at the softly twinkling lights overhead. He had wondered, a time or two, why Robbie never offered to manage him too, but he'd never considered... never even thought this would be possible, where Robbie wasn't _interested_ in him. In what way, though? He'd seemed plenty interested the night before...

Joaquin leans forward, steeples his fingers and buries his face in them, trying to breathe. "Well, Joaquin," he murmurs. "Merry Christmas. You finally make it to NXT just to learn this entire time, your boyfriend sees you as something pointless. Nothing _interesting." _

Time passes, night approaches, the winds cool, and Joaquin still hasn't moved from under the gazebo, shivering and cringing over each gust of wind cascading over his bare skin. He doesn't respond when he hears a car pull up, or its doors slam shut, nor when someone walks up to him and rests a hand on his shoulder. "Joaquin! Joaquin!" Still nothing. "Zema!"

He snaps back to consciousness and looks up at Robbie. "Hey- hey..." His voice fades away and he looks down at his hands. "What do you want?"

Robbie blinks, sitting down next to him. "I, uh. I saw the car from the apartment, and... well. What are you doing here, bro?" He hesitates, looking around at the cheerfully twinkling lights. "It's really beautiful here, sure, but..." He sobers up and leans into Joaquin's warmth. "What's up?"

Joaquin looks over at him, then exhales. Never one to shy away from hard truths, he squares his shoulders and decides to put it right out there. "I heard you and Moss at the performance center," he admits. "I heard him ask you why you don't want to manage me. And your answer."

Robbie stares at him. "Oh." A moment of silence passes between them. "_Oh._ Bro, I swear it's not as bad as it sounds. Look, you know I think you're amazing. When I say I'm not interested, it's because you don't _need_ me. You're gonna find your path just fine on your own, I mean look at you. Back from injury and already kicking ass on 205 Live." He runs his fingers over the shaved ridges in Joaquin's hair, smiling at him. "Besides if you haven't noticed, I try to keep my personal life and business life separate. Bro, I'm too obnoxious to be your manager _and_ boyfriend. C'mon, I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy."

"I guess that makes sense," Joaquin says. "Is that why you always drag Moss and Matha away whenever I run into you guys in the back though? I thought they hated me or something."

Robbie shrugs. "Who could _ever_ hate you? But no," he says softly, resting his forehead on Joaquin's shoulder. "They like you well enough, I guess I was just being too stubborn about not mixing personal and professional stuff. I'll try to be better about that. Forgive me?"

"Of course," Joaquin tells him, lips quirking up into a small smile.

"Perfect," Robbie says, glancing upwards a couple of times until Joaquin grows curious and looks up too, finding Robbie gripping a mistletoe over their heads. He laughs and leans in, cradling Robbie's jaw before kissing him warmly. Robbie hums happily before easing back, brushing his finger over Joaquin's lips. "Maybe we can invite the guys over for our Christmas party, then you can get to know them properly."

Joaquin grins. "I'd like that," he agrees, resting his forehead against Robbie's and staring into his eyes warmly. "Love you, R."

"Love you too, Z," he says.


	19. Chapter 19

Tamina sighs, leaning her head back against the cool tiles of the pool, listening to the wind in the trees surrounding the patio and staring at the Christmas lights sparkling cheerfully from their house, and the neighboring houses. She hums softly, enjoying the warm water washing over her surgerically repaired muscles, but carefully keeps her eyes closed, remains still as the glass doors slide open and familiar footsteps approach.

Lana's hands glide over her shoulders, fingers toying with her hair, and Tamina exhales softly. "What do you want, Lana?" she asks, not surprised when the touch eases away and Lana slips into the water next to her.

"I miss you," Lana decides to answer with after a moment, turning to look Tamina in the eye. "I've been home for a few hours and you haven't even come to say hello." She pouts but Tamina's not ready to be swayed by such things.

"I figured you were busy preparing for your wedding to Lashley," she says dryly and Lana's eyes widen, then ease to the side. "Yes, I heard," she says before Lana could try to find an excuse. "I was watching. So, New Years wedding, huh? Sounds romantic." Her skin glistens in the soft light overhead as she grips the railings and pulls herself out of the pool, suddenly finding no relief in the water.

Lana's eyes follow her, troubled and dark, as she walks over to the lawn chairs and collects her towel, wrapping up tight in it. "Tamina- please-"

"Lana," Tamina says tiredly, holding a hand up. "I'm tired, and I don't want to hear a ton of excuses or explanations about your boyfriend or your husband or..." She laughs. "God, when I say it, considering our... arrangement, it just makes me sound even stupider than I've been feeling already." She frowns at Lana. "People give you way too much control over their lives, and that includes me." She shakes her head and disappears inside.

Lana sits in the water for long, tense moments, pain in her eyes, jaw slack as she reflects over the last few minutes. "Tamina!" Scrambling, she gets out of the pool and chases after the woman. "Please-" Ignoring how she's dripping over the wood floors, she finds herself outside of Tamina's bedroom, pushing the door open in time to see Tamina drag out a bag. "Tamina- please- no-"

Tamina exhales. "Lana, I could go along with before- Rusev had Aiden, you had me- open marriages aren't _too_ out of the ordinary, but now. _Now._" She waves her hands around, shaking her head. "Fake pregnancies, divorces, restraining orders. What happens if you suddenly grow tired of me too? Will you put orders of protection against me too? Evict me from here? I can't deal with all of that, I really really can't-"

Her words drift away as Lana rushes forward and wraps her arms around Tamina, holding her close. "Please, no," Lana says, burying her face in Tamina's neck. "Our relationship is different- it always has been. You _got_ me in ways no one else did." She pulls back and cups Tamina's chin, staring into her eyes. "Rusev, I... we were good together for awhile, but I was always trying to be something I wasn't for him. It's why I kept always searching for more- Ziggler, even Enzo for a little bit."

"Me," Tamina says dryly, but Lana shakes her head.

"No, you're nothing like the others. I didn't expect this to grow between us the way it did." Lana exhales shakily. "We began as friends, and then... more. I can't say that for a lot of my relationships." She rests her forehead against Tamina's and smiles shakily at her. "Please stay. Please? I'll spend the next few weeks trying to make this up to you. I promise."

"What about your wedding plans?"

Lana rolls her eyes and eases up a little bit, kissing Tamina. "It can wait, there's plenty of time," she mutters. "The only _plans _I care about right now is spending Christmas with you, and what we're going to do to celebrate it. How's that sound?"

Tamina seems deep in thought for a long moment, and then lifts her arms in a shrug, pressing her lips over Lana's in a lingering kiss. "Sounds pretty great," she sighs, dropping her luggage back in the closet and pushing the door shut with her foot before allowing Lana to grip her hands and drag her back out to the pool.


	20. Chapter 20

Ariya lounges backstage, watching the monitor broadcasting the match going on in the ring currently, but listening to the Best of 205 Live show airing on the network. Next to him, Drew is sitting, fiddling with his wrist tape and looking a little sore and a lot cranky. "Are we going to leave soon?" he asks, grumbling under his breath as the tape tangles all the more at his impatient tugging.

Ariya distractedly reaches over, works his fingernails under the tape and loosens it, easily coiling it off of Drew's wrist as he gapes. "Do you wanna leave soon?"

"_Yes,_" he says insistently, and Ariya looks over at him with a smirk. "Come on, you can't _really_ be interested in any of this."

"Ah, I dunno," he says cheerfully. "It's a little fun to look back at the year that was. See old friends, remember good times." He stares at Hideo Itami from the fatal four way back in January and, for a brief moment, wonders how he's doing, wherever he might be right now, before shrugging his shoulders and turning his focus back onto Drew. "'Sides, Jack's in the ring. That doesn't interest you in the slightest?"

"Nope," Drew says stubbornly and Ariya hums, running his fingers over the residue still sticking to Drew's wrists and hands. They sit in silence for a few more moments until Jack's match ends, almost at the same time as the replay of the fatal four way. "_Now_?" he demands and Ariya's grin grows.

"Yes, fine, now," he says, and Drew exhales like he's been holding all of the oxygen in the room until Ariya said the magic words, up and out of the room like he hadn't just wrestled a couple hours earlier.

By the time Ariya catches up with him, he's dressed, his luggage sorted, and Ariya's things are waiting near Drew's. "Come on, let's get out of here," he insists, and Ariya shrugs, not sure what the big hurry is as he lazily follows Drew out to the rental car.

He gets some inkling of an idea, however, when Drew takes a turn _away_ from their hotel and into the downtown area. It's bitterly cold, Ariya's shivering, which he always despises, and he shakes his head warningly. "Drew..."

"Just a few more minutes," Gulak says and Ariya groans, falling silent when the car coasts into a parking spot. "C'mon, trust me?"

"You know I do," Ariya says, exasperated. "But..." His words fail him when Drew reaches over and lightly curls his fingers around Ariya's, lifting them and lightly kissing his knuckles. "Oh, dammit, you do not play fair, Gulak."

"Never have, never will," he grins. "C'mon." Ariya sighs but follows him out of the car and into the park, Drew looking around in awe at the trees decorated with soft, twinkling lights. He exhales and looks back, reaching out for Ariya's hand. "Please?"

Ariya rolls his eyes but meets him half way, smoothly taking his hand and allowing himself to be led along the path, listening to Drew react softly to certain sets of decorations. "It's kind of amazing, huh?" he asks. "All of this work, and it's so worth it when you see it all put together like this."

"I guess," Ariya says, only swayed a little by it all while seeing it through Drew's eyes. Otherwise, all he feels is like he's about to freeze to the spot while they stand there and take it all in. He knows he's not exaggerating when he shivers hard enough to lose hold of Drew, who turns and looks at him in concern.

"Hey, c'mere." He wraps an arm snugly around Ariya and kisses the top of his head. "Geez, man, I'd have thought you being from Minneapolis, you could take the cold better than this," he jokes.

Ariya scoffs and leans into his warmth. "Yeah, right," he grumbles, his lips trembling enough to make speech difficult. "Listen, as nice as this is, what do you say we go back to our hotel room, where it's warm and quiet, and we can enjoy all the _festivities _we want there? Hmm?"

Drew's eyes glint as he smirks. "Well, when you put it _that_ way..." He keeps an arm around Ariya, doing his best to keep him warm, as they walk side by side back to the car, both equally eager to leave all of a sudden.


	21. Chapter 21

Carmella feels _good_ after beating Sonya, skipping cheerfully through the hallway after seeing the New Day out and dancing with them a little. She changes as quickly as she can, the arena just a little too chilly to hang out in her gear. Once snug in a turtleneck and warm leggings, she heads for the gorilla position and watches the rest of the show, giggling and talking with the superstars and staff wandering around until the show ends. Waving, she calls a quick farewell over her shoulder, thumbing through her texts with a growing smile, scrolling her twitter timeline as she grabs her bags and heads outside, fighting to juggle everything and get her coat on before the wind can really get ahold of her.

She's about to give up, frustrated, when someone grips the dangling arm of her coat and helps her into it, Carmella blinking a few times before turning. "Jimmy!" she exclaims, dropping her bags into the snow and lunging forward, throwing her arms around James in a tight hug. "What are you doing here, I thought you were still in Maryland?"

"Hey, Princess." He laughs softly and squeezes her back before pulling away, looking down towards their feet. "Your things are getting soaked," he says, quickly hoisting her bags up.

"Oh, whatever, they'll dry. You're _here,_" she says in wonderment, staring at him in amazement. "I thought we were going to meet up at your house for Christmas with the girls." She swats at him while laughing softly.

He smiles at her. "Yeah, well, I was thinking about it and I decided maybe, considering how your year has gone, you'd like to spend part of the holiday here, in New York." He brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes and exhales. "Then, we can go spend Christmas Day with the girls, watch them open their gifts and everything." His voice falters when she stares up at him, eyes growing wet as she sniffs. "I, I mean, if you don't want to, that's fine, Mella, I just want to make your holiday the best one I possibly can. Whatever you want to do works for me."

She exhales shakily and hugs him again, burying her face in his shoulder. "You're so good to me," she mumbles as he rubs her back soothingly. "I don't deserve you."

He shakes his head and presses a kiss between her eyes. "Everyone would say the opposite is true," he says quietly. "_I _don't deserve _you_, princess."

She scoffs and rolls her eyes at him. "Please, Jimmy. No one would ever go to this much trouble for me. I don't care what anyone else has to say about us." She reaches out and grips his hand. "I love you."

He grins and presses close to her as she wraps her arm around his waist and snuggles into his warmth. "I love you too, Mella." They walk side by side to the car and James drops her bags into the trunk before cupping her face in his hands, searching her eyes for any further traces of tears. Finding none, he suggests, "How about a tour of New York? I know you've shown me things in summer, but maybe now you can show me the best holiday spots before we go to the hotel?"

"I'd love that," she agrees, smiling at him as she clings to his hands. "Let's go."


	22. Chapter 22

"Hey, Big guy, ya still with me?" Enzo asks with a small smile, leaning over to ease the blindfold off of Cass' face. "Good?"

He tries not to blanche when Cass frowns at him, the expression on his face saying quite clearly that no, _nothing_ was 'good' at this point in time. "What did you do, Enzo?" he asks, sounding beyond angry. "Where did you take me? What _is_ this?" They're sitting in Enzo's car in the shadows of a parking deck and Cass is _fuming._ "I want to go home, right now, and I want you to tell me what stupid idea you thought of where you figured putting a blindfold on me would be a good idea? Huh? Tell me that."

Enzo closes his eyes, digs his knuckles into his forehead, and gives himself a few moments to brace himself before exhaling shakily. "Listen, Cass, I just thought maybe a break from New York would be good for ya. For me too, to be honest." He reaches out, gets ahold of Cass' hand and strokes his knuckles, ignoring the way Cass pulls away from him, still angry. "So I bought some tickets. Thought maybe you'd like ta spend the holidays with me in California."

Cass is frowning at him and Enzo tilts his head, waiting for _some_ problem to creep up. "But my family," he mumbles.

"I had a long heart to heart with all o' 'em," Enzo says. "We're pretty much all in agreement that you 'n' your recovery is the most important thing right now, and there's just somethin' about New York... it always pushes you into bad habits, and yeah California has its vices, too- boy does it ever- but ol' 'Zo is good at keepin' you busy and there's a ton off stuff to do down there, unlike New York right now where it's just snow and cold and barely getting a few feet down the street without some reckless asshole doin' something ridiculous." Enzo pauses and smiles at his best friend. hope in his wide, almost manic looking blue eyes. "What do you think, then?"

Cass shakes his head, bites his lip as he mulls it all over. "You are ridiculous," he finally mumbles and Enzo nods cheerfully. "California?"

"California," Enzo says hopefully and Cass makes a soft hmphing noise. "Think about it, big guy," he says, trying for the hard sell. "You 'n' me, we can exchange gifts in our room, then eventually make our way out onto the beach, toes in the sand, Maybe do a little swimmin', if ya want. The sun'll start to set and we'll head back inside, cuddle up all snug in bed and watch as many goofy holiday movies as we can possibly find. Maybe we'll spend all week there and do it all over again for New Years, but this time I'll feed ya little shrimps, and-"

Cass cuts Enzo's almost nervous sounding ramblings off with an abrupt, sharp kiss. "Fine, Zo, fine," he grumbles, lips twitching up into a small smile as he pulls back. "Ya win. We'll go to California." He exhales.

"Yeah?" Enzo lights up. "Fantastic! Ya won't regret this, Colin, I swear to ya."

"Oh, I know I won't," Cass says, watching fondly as Enzo tosses the blindfold aside and digs around behind them, finally pulling out his standard carry on bag "You did pack some stuff for me, didn't you?"

Enzo looks over at him, grin growing. "Course I did! What kinda surprise travel planner would I be if I didn't at least do that much for ya? Bags're in the trunk. Now c'mon, let's go show California how to _really_ do Christmas up right!"

All Cass can really do is laugh and, after a few moments of watching Enzo excitedly toss things around the trunk in the side mirror, unfold himself from the confines of the vehicle to collect his bag and follow Enzo into the airport to catch their flight. They make it to the door before Cass reaches out and stops Enzo, his hand spanning the better part of Enzo's waist when he grips his hip. "Hey. I just wanted to say thanks, 'Zo," he says softly. "Know I was kinda pissy about it at first, before I really knew what was going on, but yeah, a change of scenery sounds pretty perfect about now. So thank you." He leans in and kisses him again and Enzo sighs softly against his lips before tangling his fingers in Cass' hair, smiling.

"Any time, big guy. Now let's _go!_"


	23. Chapter 23

Jason is sprawled out in bed, fingers curled around a pillow, when Chad makes his way back home after another Smackdown tour. He smiles and leans against the doorway, staring at his boyfriend for long, quiet moments. He sighs softly and pulls away, venturing into the bathroom and considering how loud the shower typically is before giving up on the prospect, too tired to bother anyway, pulling his shirt off and kicking his jeans into a pile by the laundry basket.

Returning to the bedroom, he slips in next to Jason and presses his forehead to Jason's shoulder, kissing the sleep warm flesh before settling in to sleep as well. He's not terribly surprised when Jason stirs, wraps an arm around him and murmurs dozily before dropping back asleep as well.

The next morning, they wake up at around the same time, Chad smiling as Jason yawns and stretches, burying his face in Chad's sternum. "Everything alright?" Chad wonders as Jason hums, hugging him close.

"My dad finally sent us an invite to his house for Christmas," Jason mumbles into Chad's tank top.

Chad lights up, running his fingers over Jason's hair. "Really? That's great!" Things between Jason and Kurt had gone from tense during Jason's surgery and the beginning stages of his recovery to guilt-ridden and awkward when they realized he wasn't healing as expected post-surgery, to horrified realization when Jason had to quietly retire and venture into production work. They're just now working together, since Angle had retired and followed his son's path, and things are pretty solid between them once more. "I know last year was really hard for you."

"It was," Jason says, pulling back to smile at Chad. "But I think things are going to be fine now." He kisses Chad softly. "I have you, everything's getting better between my dad and I, I've found a place in production." He curls his fingers slightly, frowning at the lingering weakness there, and shrugs. "May not be able to have _everything_ I've ever wanted, but I have so many things that are good, I can't really complain. You know?"

Chad presses his forehead to Jason's and nods. "Yeah, I do," he says softly. "That's how I feel too." They'd had issues in their relationship as well, but Jason's early retirement hadn't just been a wake up call for Kurt. It had opened Chad's eyes to a few things as well. "I love you, Jason."

Jason grins at him. "I love you too, Shorty."

Chad groans. "OH come on, I can stomach being called that on TV, but not you too." He runs his fingers lightly over Jason's ribs, sending him into a fit of gasps and choked giggles as Jason tries and fails to get away from the hands that seem to have every ticklish spot of his memorized.

"Oh my God-" Jason huffs, finally getting some momentum and pinning Chad back down to the bed, hovering over him. "No more of that," he says, leaning in and kissing Chad until he stops attempting to free himself to continue tormenting Jason. "Now if I'm going to share you with all of my dad's family for the next few days, it's only fair if we take full advantage of what little time we have alone right now."

Chad tilts his head. "I thought that's what we were already doing."

Jason rolls his eyes and leans in, hovering just over Chad's lips. "I think we can find something a lot better than tickling to do right now. Don't you?"

Chad stares up into his deep, dark eyes, wonderment and need filling his own. "Oh. Well, I mean. Yeah," he gasps out. "Definitely."

Jason smiles down at him and flicks a couple of switches near the bed, a soft, colorful glow spreading throughout the room as the lights surrounding the small tree they have opposite the bed turns on, adding some festive cheer to the room. "Merry Christmas, Chad."

"Merry Christmas, Jason," Chad murmurs back against his lips before wrapping his arms around Jason and giving in fully to his kiss.


	24. Chapter 24

Tommaso hadn't had a match scheduled for this evening so he was sitting backstage, watching everyone else compete at the last edition of NXT from Full Sail for the year, a frown marring his face as Finn Balor and Adam Cole begin beating each other up. He hates other people fighting for Goldy, for what should be _his,_ but then the frustration and annoyance drains out of him as Balor is distracted by a familiar form on the entrance ramp and Ciampa sits up a little straighter, watching. "Johnny Boy," he mumbles, glad to see his former partner, especially when it keeps Balor from winning.

His goals remain the same, his focus set on Adam Cole, and he breathes a little easier as the camera focuses on Gargano. "Absolutely ridiculous," he mumbles, shaking his head. Getting to his feet, he finds that the locker room is just a little too stuffy, that he needs some air, some time to himself. So he makes his way out of the arena, and sits where some of the developmental guys will eat lunch in nicer weather, feeling the chill from the concrete seep through his jeans. He sighs and leans his head back, looking up at the stars just visible overhead, when he hears the arena door whine sharply as it's pushed open.

He doesn't even need to look to know, feeling Gargano stop behind him. "Hey, Tommaso," Johnny says quietly.

"Hey, Johnny." They fall quiet for a few moments, Johnny joining Tommaso in searching the night sky. Tommaso sighs softly as Johnny reaches out, fingers lightly stroking over Tommaso's skull. "Don't stop," he mumbles when Johnny's touch slows. He relaxes when the tender, circular motions continue.

Johnny continues gently massaging him before pulling away. "Hey, Tommaso," he says, stepping back and holding a hand out.

Tommaso looks up at him, rolling his eyes slightly before gripping his hand and allowing himself to be pulled up off of the ground. "Where are you taking me?" he asks after a stretch of silence, Gargano leading the way through the tables and chairs to a quiet corner. He realizes as soon as he sees it, slowing to a stop and taking it all in quietly. "Whoa," he murmurs.

Decorations light up the area, a small tree settled on a table, blinking cheerfully. Garland trails over the railing nearby and there are small ornaments hanging here and there. It's simple but pretty, and all Tommaso can do is stare. "Nice, huh?" Johnny asks, settling down in a chair and smiling up at Ciampa as he gawks at it all.

"I had no idea this was here," he says honestly.

Gargano chuckles. "Of course you didn't," he says softly. "You've been pretty obsessed with reclaiming Goldy. Everything else seems to have escaped your notice."

Tommaso peers down at him. "Not everything," he responds after a few moments, easing forward and running his fingers through Gargano's hair, parting the dark strands with a sure touch. "I'm glad you're back."

Johnny smiles. "Me too," he says, leaning back into Tommaso's touch. "I heard what you said before," he continues after a moment. "'This is for Johnny Boy!' It was... interesting. Despite everything we've done to each other, I guess..."

"I've grown since then," Ciampa sighs. "Neck injuries suck no matter which way you look at it." His nails creep down, pressing warm against Johnny's neck, and he listens as Gargano sighs softly.

"They definitely do." He reaches up and rests his hand over Tommaso's, squeezing his fingers lightly. "It's good to be home."

Tommaso nods, voice tight when he responds. "Yes. It is." Snagging his other hand, Johnny tugs on it, drawing Tommaso down until they're eye to eye, smiling at him. "Merry Christmas, Johnny."

"Merry Christmas, Tommaso," he echoes, leaning close and lightly kissing him.


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: Hope everyone has had a nice holiday season and a Happy New Year to come!

Ricardo wakes up to warm sun on his face, twitching quietly as he squints out at it. Batting the sheets away from his body, he yawns and stretches, grumbling when he finds the bed empty next to him, long cool. He groans and sits up, scrubbing at his face and brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Alberto," he mumbles sleepily, finally pulling himself out of bed and collecting some clothes- jeans and an old merch shirt of Alberto's, slipping his feet into old, reliable sneakers before leaving the bedroom.

He follows the sounds of voices to the kitchen and smiles, leaning against the doorway to watch his mom, sister and Sofia working quickly and efficiently at putting together tamales. "Hola," he says after a moment, grinning almost bashfully as all three of them look up at him.

"Ay, Feliz Navidad," his mother exclaims, rushing to hug him.

"Feliz Navidad," he echoes, hugging her back. She shifts aside and his sister hovers, waving her flour coated hands around. "C'mon," he laughs, motioning to her. "This shirt has seen much worse than some flour."

She rolls her eyes and hugs him tightly. "Feliz Navidad, _Jesus,_" she says cheerfully, kissing him on the cheek before moving back to finish the tamale she'd been in the process of filling when he'd spoke up.

Sofia smiles at him and graces him with a hug as well, eyes gleaming as she stares up at him. "El Patron is outside," she offers. "With the children."

He doesn't move, however, casting a quick glance over the busy, messy kitchen. "Would you all like some help in here?"

"Ah, no, no," his mother says. "Go, shoo, save Senor Del Rio from the children. We're fine."

"Si, he's been out there long enough with them," Ricardo's sister says with a slight laugh, glancing out at where her children are playing, Ricardo's dogs barking and chasing around excitedly as the children throw balls and frisbees for them to catch.

"If you're sure," Ricardo says, eyes widening when all three women start to shoo him away. "Fine, fine," he grumbles, heading outside. The sun is bright, the wind is crisp, but it's a beautiful, clear day, and he breathes it in for a few moments before walking towards where Alberto is slumped on the top step of the patio. "Did the children tire you out?" he teases, kneeling down to sit next to him.

"Si, they did, the monsters," Alberto says with a huff, laughing softly when Ricardo nudges him. "I was chasing them and the dogs around and... Hm, I think I'm getting too old for this silliness."

Ricardo scoffs. "Ay, please, you are not _old._" He pauses, mulling it over. "Perhaps middle aged, hm?"

Alberto rolls his eyes at him but before he can say anything in response, Ricardo leans in and kisses him, slow and soft and warm. "Hmph," he settles for, reaching up to cradle Ricardo's face in his hands. "Ridiculous man."

Ricardo chuckles, resting his head on Alberto's shoulder. "Like you have room to talk," he teases, reaching up and curling his hand around Alberto's. They sit quietly for awhile, watching the kids and dogs chasing each other around. "This has been one of the best Christmases I've had in awhile," he shares. "I wasn't eager to move again so quickly after going to Mexico City, but to be able to see my mother and sister, and the kids, this holiday without a ton of travel for any of us... it's been nice."

Alberto smiles and presses a kiss to his forehead. "Si. It was a good decision, I am glad it all worked out."

"Me too," Ricardo sighs, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of the sun on his skin and Alberto against his side, listening to the children laugh and shriek while the dogs bark, the smell of his mother's tamales rafting out of the door behind them. He smiles.


End file.
